


Lost

by Quicksilvermaid



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Brotherhood Without Banners - Freeform, Direwolves are underrated, Jondry, Liberal use of the fuck word, Lord of Light - Freeform, M/M, Warging, gettin mystical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-01-20 05:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12425853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quicksilvermaid/pseuds/Quicksilvermaid
Summary: Gendry was never taken by the Red Woman and remains with what's left of the Brotherhood Without Banners as they make their way North to the Wall.As they travel up the Kings Road, through the Wolfswood north of Winterfell, he becomes aware of red eyes watching him in the dark, a flash of white fur between trees.Why the hell is a giant wolf hunting him through the forest?Very loosely inspired by little Red Riding Hood and the big, bad, wolf.





	1. Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> A little story that’s been swirling around in my brain. I blame the Sterek influence in my life for this one ... 
> 
> If you like it, please leave a comment. They make my day :) or hit me up on Tumblr as squirrel-and-me :)

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching him. The forest was creepy enough as it was - huge trees looming with wisps of fog curling between them. And it was so quiet. There wasn’t a sound apart from the noises the five of them made, tramping down the road. He’d grown up in Flea Bottom - not a tree in sight, though there was constant noise and light and … there it was again, the creeping sensation on the back of his neck, like there were eyes trained just on him. He spun quickly, but saw nothing but trees and more trees. And the Hound’s face behind him, one eyebrow raised sardonically.  
Gendry’s face flushed slightly and he turned back to the way they were walking, trying to put the sensation out of his mind.

That night they camped back in the woods, out of sight of the Kings Road, the way they had the last few nights before. Thoros made a small fire, just enough to cook on, but not enough that it could be seen from the road if some other traveller passed down it - not that they’d seen a single soul since they left Winterfell. Gendry shivered, pulling his cloak more tightly around him. He’d taken the cloak from a Lannister soldier he’d killed. It had given him a vicious satisfaction to smash in the side of the man’s head. To - finally - begin to avenge Harrenhall. The red cloak was a trophy. A reminder. Besides it was warmer than his old one and it was getting damned cold the further North they travelled. 

They didn’t talk much around the fire. The Hound was bad company, Beric always seemed to want to go on about the Lord of Light, so Gendry didn’t like to get him started, Thoros was content to drink in silence and Anguy was shaving fletchings for his arrows. Gendry rolled his eyes at the man - he probably took the damned bow to bed with him. He sighed and shifted, sometimes wondering why he was still with them - especially in light of this mad plan of Dondarrion’s. Fight some ancient evil beyond the Wall? Really? And what were five men supposed to do against that. Even if one _had_ been brought back to life more than once.

Gendry stood, sick of the same old thoughts, and went beyond the light of the fire to take a piss before bed. He was re-lacing his breeches when he saw it. Two red lights, glowing faintly in the darkness. He squinted, trying to see more clearly what it was. The lights disappeared for a moment and then came back. Not lights. Eyes. Fuck. Huge, red eyes.

Gendry turned, stumbling over his own feet and hurried the few steps back into camp, into the firelight. He stood, looking out into the darkness, heart racing. Beric glanced up at him, curiously, ‘What’s wrong lad?’  
Gendry hesitated a moment, scanning the darkness, but the eyes were gone. He shook his head, not wanting to sound like a fool. ‘Nothing.’  
From his spot furtherest from the fire the Hound snorted, ‘Fucking boy’s afraid of the dark.’  
‘Fuck off,’ Gendry muttered, glaring at the man on his way to the bedroll.

——

The next day he was sure of it. There was something out there. The feeling of being watched had only intensified. And every now and again, he caught sight of a flash of white through the trees. Ever so briefly, but definitely there. Whatever it was was fast. And big.  
He moved a little faster to walk beside Beric and dropped his voice. ‘There’s something out there. In the trees. It’s huge … and it’s following us.’  
Beric glanced across at him, measuring his seriousness, then glanced around at the forest, apparently seeing nothing. He turned back to Gendry. ‘Keep an eye out. I will too. It’s probably just some forest animal - a wolf maybe. Whatever it is won’t be any match for the five of us.’  
Gendry frowned, not sure that they wouldn’t be better off with the five of them on alert. The feeling he got from the thing - it was wild … and dangerous. But he didn’t say anything, just dropped his hand to the handle of his hammer and kept his eyes sharp.

——

He didn’t know what brought him out of sleep at dawn the next morning, but the moment he opened his eyes, his heart ratcheted with terror. He froze in his bedroll, staring up into the huge furred snout and blazing red eyes of the biggest wolf he’d ever seen. It was standing over him, front paws on either side of his bedroll, muzzle right down in his face. Gendry’s breathing sped up as he looked into the animal’s eyes, waiting for it to tear him to pieces. But the animal didn’t move. It just continued to look down at him, then it cocked its head to one side and _sniffed_ him, wet nose cold on his neck. Gendry flinched and let out a startled cry.

At his noise, Anguy snorted and woke from his watch position, pulling his chin up from his chest. He looked around bleary eyed and spotted the huge animal, standing over Gendry. He shouted at the sight and the wolf’s head turned to him. A second later, it had bounded forward in one powerful, silent leap. Moments more and it was gone and the forest was still again. Anguy and Gendry exchanged incredulous, wide-eyed looks, and then both turned as one to look out into the forest in the direction the animal had gone. The others had stirred awake, hands going automatically to weapons as they sat up out of their bedrolls.

‘What’s wrong?’ Beric asked, no hint of sleep in his voice.  
‘Wolf,’ Gendry said. ‘Fucking huge white wolf. Standing right over me.’ Off to one side Anguy nodded furiously in agreement.  
Beric frowned, ‘Strange for it to come straight into camp like that. Only one you say?’  
Gendry nodded, relieved that there had only been one.  
Beric nodded, ‘Right. High alert everyone. If it has no fear of humans it could be very dangerous. If you can Anguy - shoot it before it gets close again.’ Anguy nodded, fingering the bow at his side with a determined look.  
Gendry suddenly felt a pang of concern - the wolf had been huge. And scary. But - had it meant to hurt him? He shook his head. What was he thinking, of course it had. It was a bloody wild animal.

They were all tense as they walked that day, but there was no sign of the wolf. Gendry knew it was out there though. He could feel its eyes on him. It wasn’t until they settled in to camp for the night, the others had gone to bed and Gendry had taken first watch, that he saw it again. He glimpsed the beast out of the corner of his eye. One moment it wasn’t there, the next it was, appearing silently out of the darkness. He jumped in surprise and considered calling out to wake the others, but something made him hold his tongue. The animal wasn’t doing anything - it didn’t look threatening … if you discounted the fact that it was the most dangerous looking thing Gendry had every seen in his life.

He watched it, and it watched him, and slowly, so that he almost didn’t notice it, the huge white wolf came closer. Eventually it stopped, almost within touching distance. Its head was at the height of Gendry’s shoulder as he stood in front of it, and he marvelled at the animal’s massive size, and deadly grace. Its eyes were calm, more curious than anything, and there was a sense of intelligence deep inside them. 

Gendry looked into its eyes then swallowed heavily, wondering if he was about to do the stupidest thing of his life. He reached out one trembling hand, stopping just short of the beast’s nose. The wolf watched him, silently, then it nudged forward, touching its cold, wet, nose to his palm and sniffing. Gendry smiled softly, amazed at the sight. Then his eyes widened as it stepped closer. He forced himself to stay still as the massive head came in towards his face, still sniffing. It touched his neck again and something in Gendry - a total lack of survival instinct? - made him lift his chin up, baring his throat to the animal. It didn’t make a sound, but somehow he knew it was pleased by the action. He let out a shaky breath as the furred head rubbed against his neck and chin. Then he brought up one hand and rubbed it softly through the animal’s fur, amazed by how soft it was.

The wolf pulled back at his touch, suddenly wary and Gendry held up both hands, palms up. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured quietly.  
The wolf eyed him a moment longer and then turned, disappearing back into the night without a sound.

——

Gendry woke up the next morning wondering if he’d dreamed the whole thing. But it wasn’t long before he spotted that flash of white in the trees. He stopped, not wanting Anguy to see it first and get a shot off. The wolf was fast. But that man didn’t miss.  
‘I - ah - saw the wolf again last night,’ he said, and the others stared at him. ‘It’s out there now.’ They all tensed and turned. ‘No!,’ Gendry cried, then moderated his tone. ‘That is - ah - I think it’s friendly. It - well I _patted_ it last night and look,’ he wiggled his fingers, ‘still got all my parts.’  
Beric eyed him with suspicion, ‘You want us not to defend ourselves against a dangerous animal.’  
‘Yes - well no - I mean … I don’t think it’s dangerous. Can it be innocent until proven guilty?’  
The Hound snorted at this, ‘You want to make a fucking pet of a fucking wolf? Fuck me, boy. You’re dumber than you look.’  
Gendry flushed but continued looking at Beric, who finally nodded, ‘Fine. We only go at the creature in defence, not on attack.’ The other three looked dubious, but all nodded … including the Hound. Gendry breathed a sigh of relief.

He had the strange feeling the animal had overheard the conversation. Over the course of the day it got closer and closer to the band of men, so that each of them could see it clearly, following them only a few metres back in the forest. In the beginning they all eyed it warily, not wanting to turn their backs on the animal. But after a few hours, they all seemed to come to the same conclusion as Gendry. It didn’t want to hurt them, it was just … following them.

When they settled in to camp for the night, the animal did the most surprising thing yet. It approached the camp. Slowly, and with its ears pricked forward, and tension running through its entire body, it approached. Gendry was sitting on the edge of the camp and it came up to him, so that his body was between it and the other men. They all watched it silently, the others with hands near their weapons. Gendry kept his hands free and open and looked the animal in the eye, trying to project a sense of calmness, and trust. The wolf sat at his side, looking around at the others. They all moved their hands away from their weapons and it seemed to relax slightly. After a few moments it stretched its front paws out on the ground and lay out flat, so that its side was just touching Gendry’s leg.

They all stared at it, waiting to see what it would do next, but the beast made no move, seemingly content to sit by Gendry. Finally, the staring stopped and the normal processes of the evening resumed. Thoros and Anguy pulled some dinner together, almost the last of their stores from Winterfell.  
‘We’ll need to hunt soon,’ Beric said to Anguy who nodded in agreement.

They were all sitting back, picking over the remains of their dinner, when the Hound spoke.  
‘That’s a direwolf. I killed one once. Was only a pup though, not a great fucking monster like this one,’ the Hound grunted, flicking a chicken bone at the beast at Gendry’s feet.  
At the man’s words, the animal looked up, red, glowing eyes fixed uncannily on the Hound’s face. His lip pulled back into a soundless snarl and his teeth were the length of a man’s finger. Gendry had the strange feeling the animal had understood the words. And objected to them. Greatly. 

He reached out a hand to touch it gently on the neck. The direwolf resisted him a moment but turned its massive head to look him in the eyes.  
‘Ignore that bitter old bastard,’ he told it. ‘I bet he tastes no good anyway.’ The animal considered him for a moment, then turned back to the Hound, eyes still savage. The other man shifted a little in his seat at the intensity of the wolf’s gaze, but then sneered.  
‘Talking to animals boy? Just don’t start fucking it. That’s all we need in this band of freaks.’  
The dire wolf stood up abruptly, advancing a step towards the Hound, lip pulled back in a silent snarl. His hand dropped to his sword and he made to stand.  
‘No!’ Gendry cried out, darting in front of the wolf. ’Stop.’ He looked the beast in the eyes, some uncanny feeling telling him it could understand what he was saying. ‘Leave him. It’s not worth it.’  
The wolf didn’t move for a long, anxious moment and Gendry noticed that the other three men all had their hands on their weapons. He wondered fleetingly if it came to a fight, who’s side he was supposed to be on. Then he wondered why that was suddenly a question. When had he decided he was looking after this beast?

The direwolf considered him a moment longer, then stepped forward suddenly, nudging against Gendry, backing him back into his seat on the log. He stumbled slightly over his own feet as he sat back down. The animal stared again for a moment at the Hound, before it lay back down on the ground, leaning back against Gendry’s legs, a warm, comforting presence.

That night, he expected it to leave, but it didn’t. Gendry rolled out his bedroll and to his surprise, the huge animal lay down at his back, stretching out. He ignored the Hound’s derisive snort. It was a warm, furry presence behind him and somehow he knew its eyes were open and watchful. He drifted into sleep to the rhythm of its breathing.

The next morning it was still there, and that was the pattern the next few days took. At night it would settle itself to sleep beside Gendry and it would shadow them during the day - sometimes walking beside Gendry, sometimes disappearing into the forest. Every now and again it would return with a rabbit … and once a small deer clasped between its jaws.  
‘Look boy, it’s bringing you lover’s tokens,’ the Hound smirked.  
Gendry just raised an eyebrow at him, ‘You’re not keen on fresh venison then?’  
The Hound just growled at him and turned away, eyeing the direwolf with dislike.  
Gendry grinned at the animal and he could have sworn it grinned back at him.

As they roasted the deer over the fire that night, the direwolf suddenly sat up straight, eyes going to the edge of the clearing, staring intently at something just beyond the edge of the firelight. The eyes of every man in the camp went with it and several hands reached for weapons. 

Then the wolf froze, and gave a convulsive shake, as though shedding a skin. It looked back at Gendry quickly and he saw that its red eyes were wilder, more feral than ever. Then with two quick leaps it was up and out of the camp, disappearing into the night. 

In the direction it had gone, there was another movement. A sliding, stealthy movement, and slowly, head raised as though scenting the air, a man stepped into the light of the fire.


	2. Man

Beric, Thoros, Anguy and the Hound reached for their weapons immediately. Gendry just sat, staring at the man, shocked by his arrival and the sudden departure of the wolf. He was medium height and well-built although his face looked thin. He was wearing heavy black furs, though they were grimy and ragged. His hair was a wild, tangled mess around his face and a thick black beard clung to his chin. His eyes - his eyes were wild. Fierce.

At their movement the man’s gaze flicked over the four of them and his stance tensed. He froze in place, his eyes narrowed and his lip pulled up slightly as he bared his teeth. His hands twitched, curling. His whole body was coiled tight and power radiated from him. Gendry stood, slowly, hands out in a calming gesture. He had no idea what was happening but he didn’t want to see whatever it was escalate.  
‘Everyone just relax,’ he said slowly and clearly, hands still up. No one paid any attention to him. Anguy had an arrow knocked and drawn on his bow. Thoros looked moments away from lighting his damned sword. And the look in the Hound’s eye ...  
Gendry stepped in between them all, facing the stranger, putting himself in the line of Anguy’s shot.  
‘Hello,’ he said quietly. ‘Welcome to our camp. Where - ah - where have you come from?’  
The man’s eyes turned to him and his face lost a hint of its savageness. As he looked Gendry in the eye he seemed to relax slightly, fingers uncurling. But there was still a very clear sense of danger about him, as though he could blur into deadly, snarling movement at the slightest provocation. 

Gendry smiled at him - trying to convey the notion that he had nothing to fear. At the same time he was struck by the realisation that although he’d never seen him before - there was something almost familiar about the man’s gaze. The man cocked his head to one side, considering Gendry and then his snarl smoothed out as well. They stood, staring into each other’s eyes, metres apart until the moment was broken by Beric’s voice.  
‘What’s your business here, stranger?’  
The man started at the sound and his eyes broke from Gendry’s. He moved back half a pace into a crouch and his lip pulled back again, revealing his teeth. Gendry was surprised to hear a low rumble coming from within the stranger’s chest. He turned around to the others, somehow unconcerned at turning his back on the wild-looking man behind him. 

‘Leave him be,’ Gendry said. ‘I - I don’t think he knows what’s going on. He looks like he’s been out here a while.’ There was a long pause as Beric looked between Gendry and the figure crouched behind him, clearly ready for a fight. Then finally he sighed, putting up his sword.  
‘Fine. You were right with the wolf. Maybe you’re right about this too. Weapons up lads.’  
The Hound was the last to sheath his and he eyed the dark haired man with suspicion that had an edge of challenge to it. Something in him was just spoiling for a fight. 

Gendry turned back around and as he glanced at the man again he saw him relaxing once more, straightening back up as he watched weapons being put away. He moved in a pace so he stood close by Gendry’s side, watching the others warily. Gendry smiled at him again and then moved forward and sat, gesturing to the log beside him. With one more glance at the others the man lowered himself to the ground in one smooth, graceful movement, sprawling at Gendry’s feet. He seemed relaxed, but his eyes were still fierce and alert. 

‘What are you?’ the Hound muttered at him incredulously, ‘The fucking princess of the forest taming all the wild animals?’  
Thoros snorted at that and the man’s eyes shot to him. Thoros stared back and the next few minutes passed with each of them looking at the others around the circle, waiting for something to happen. The tension ratcheted up and the man on the ground started to look edgy again. Finally, Gendry couldn’t take it anymore.  
‘Is that deer cooked?’ He asked, eyeing the spit of venison that was sizzling and dripping into the fire. At those words the black-haired man’s gaze moved to the fire as well and he eyed the meat with naked hunger. Gendry looked at him, wondering how long it had been since he’d had a proper meal.  
‘Near enough,’ Thoros said, prodding the meat. He pulled the leg joint from the fire and laid it on a flat rock, then carved it into large chunks, taking one for himself. Each of the men stood, gathered their tin plates and took a piece, stabbing it with a dagger and collecting a leaf-wrapped potato from the coals of the fire to add to the meal. 

‘You’re welcome to some,’ Gendry said to the man, gesturing to the remainder of the meat. The man’s eyes had watched him intently as he moved to the fire and back and Gendry assumed he was hungry. At Gendry’s words the man’s gaze went back to the pile of meat and it sharpened. He looked around at the others, as if assessing their positions and then he darted forward, faster than Gendry would have believed possible. He grabbed a chunk of deer in his bare hands and slid back to his place at Gendry’s feet. He proceeded to bite into the hunk of steaming venison, heedless of the way the blood and fats smeared across his face and dripped down his hands. He tore at the meat with his teeth, worrying his head back and forth. 

The five of them stared at him, watching as he sat on his haunches, snapping into his meal. After a long moment he sensed their eyes on him and paused, glaring up from under darkly furrowed brows. He glanced around the circle then pulled the hunk of meat away from his mouth, bringing one arm up to rub slowly across it, wiping the juices away in an almost-forgotten movement. 

Gendry smiled across at him and picked up his dagger, sawing off a piece of meat and stabbing it to bring it to his mouth. He chewed slowly, and the other man’s eyes were glued to him as he did so. The man brought his own chunk of meat to his mouth again but this time he took a smaller bite, from the edge. And he chewed and swallowed that before taking the next bite. Gendry nodded his head at the man and gave him a small smile. The man cocked his head again and then leaned in so his side was resting lightly against Gendry’s leg. Gendry froze, looking down at him in surprise. Dark eyes met his, but there was no hint of guile in them, only a sense of … trust. He relaxed his body, keeping his leg in place and the man seemed to relax as well, turning back to his meal.

Gendry looked up to see Beric looking across the fire at him, his gaze thoughtful. Gendry cocked an eyebrow at him in question but the other man just shrugged and shook his head. Gendry got the feeling he knew something about what was going on, but didn’t want to share it. He looked back down at the man - if man was the best word to describe him … there was something so - animal - in his movements, his responses. And he hadn’t uttered a single word since he’d entered the camp. He’d just decided, for some reason that he felt comfortable with Gendry, it seemed. Gendry wondered if maybe he was touched in the head - simple. Maybe he couldn’t speak. Or maybe he’d become lost in the woods and had lost his mind … he looked again at the man and dark eyes came back up to meet his. No. That wasn’t right. There was intelligence shining in those eyes. There was a man inside. He just seemed very far inside.

When it came time for bed, Gendry cast around, trying to figure out if anyone had a spare blanket. The answer was no. He sighed. Figured.  
‘You sleep here,’ he said to the man, gesturing to a space beside the fire that should stay warm most of the night. The man looked at the spot then looked across at Gendry, slipping himself inside his bedroll. He looked back at the fire then took a few steps towards Gendry, dropping down to the ground beside him and stretching out along his length. Gendry stiffened in surprise. It was one thing to have the wolf sleep beside him the past few nights ... but this?

He made to sit up, to shift across, but suddenly there was a low rumbling growl at his back. Gendry’s neck prickled and he glanced over his shoulder at the man. His eyes were dark in the shadows of the night but the message in them was clear. Gendry subsided back into the bed, wondering when this had become his life - taking directions about his sleeping arrangements from random strangers in the middle of nowhere. As he lay back down, the warmth at his back moved closer and he felt the other man breathing on the back of his neck, leaning forward and almost seeming to _scent_ him. Gendry shook himself and cast a glance back over his shoulder.  
‘Cut it out,’ he hissed quietly. There was another hot inhale at his neck and then the man moved back again, putting a small distance between them. Gendry relaxed slightly.  
‘Careful your other pet doesn’t get jealous in the night, boy,’ the Hound grunted, eyeing them with a smirk. 

Gendry gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore the comment. But the man behind him started up a rumbling growl again, lifting his head to watch the Hound, and this time it was a much more menacing sound.  
Gendry turned over to face the man at his back, pushing him back down onto the ground. ‘If you’re going to get angry every time that idiot opens his mouth, you’re going to have a bad time if you decide to stick around. Now hush. I’m sleeping.’ The man subsided with a last glare in the Hound’s direction. 

The Hound sniggered in the darkness. ‘Maybe I underestimated you boy. You seem to have a way with the feral ones. When the fucking happens, just try to keep it quiet, won’t you?’  
Now it was Gendry’s turn to growl. ‘Fuck. Off. You old cunt. You think I want this?’  
‘Sure don’t seem to be objecting, boy.’  
Gendry gritted his teeth again and lay back down, closing his eyes, focussing on ignoring the Hound. The man at his back was a warm presence, almost familiar, and it comforted him somewhat. He had a moment of thinking that it was strange not to have the wolf at his back - that it was even stranger to have some man he’d never met before. But it was only a moment. Soon, the warmth at his back, the even breathing and the steady heartbeat all lulled him. He closed his eyes and drifted in to sleep. 

——

Gendry woke early the next morning. He opened his eyes and was startled to see a deep brown pair staring into his, just inches from his nose. He let out a yelp of surprise and pressed back into his bedcovers. The man above him blinked and drew back as well, until he was sitting back on his heels, a quizzical look on his face. 

Gendry heard a chuckle to his left and looked over to see Thoros awake and on watch, glancing across at him with barely concealed amusement.  
‘He’s been like that for about half an hour now. Just staring down at you. I can’t decide if it’s creepy or cute.’  
Gendry glared at him and pushed his way out of his bedroll, pulling his boots on and stamping out into the forest to take a piss. He wasn’t surprised when the man followed him, though he was surprised by how little noise he’d made doing so. 

Gendry glanced across at him and had a thought. He beckoned to the man and they walked a short way until they reached a large fallen tree. Gendry sat up on it, looking across at the man, who was still standing.  
‘Do you mind if we have a talk?’ He asked. ‘I thought being away from camp - from the others - might help.’  
The man didn’t respond, just watched him with his dark eyes. He took that as an agreement and pressed on.  
‘What’s your name?’ he asked gently.  
The man looked at him for a long moment, head cocked to one side, thinking. 

Then he opened his mouth and when his voice emerged it was a croak of a thing, a rusty rasp that sounded like it hadn’t been used in a very long time.  
‘Ghost,’ he said, hoarsely. Gendry’s eyes widened at the evidence that the man could speak. But then he thought about the answer and eyed the man, uncertain, ‘Your name is Ghost?’  
The man cocked his head again, then shook it quickly, puzzlement in his eyes. He opened his mouth and then closed it, clearly confused and beginning to get frustrated.  
‘That’s okay,’ Gendry soothed. ‘It’s okay if you don’t remember now.’  
He thought about it a moment, putting all the pieces together - the sudden arrival, the animalistic mannerisms, the sense of familiarity he felt with this stranger. ‘The wolf - the big white wolf - his name is Ghost, isn’t it.’  
The man’s face cleared and he received a short nod. 

Gendry felt stupid asking the next question, but nothing about this situation was normal ‘You’re … not the wolf?’  
This time there was a pause, before he slowly shook his head, as though the man wasn’t completely sure about whether that was true.  
‘But you are ... connected to it?’  
This time the nod was quicker, and a word came with it.  
‘Inside,’ the man rasped, and he touched his head.  
Gendry stared at him, unsure if he was understanding correctly.  
‘You - you go inside the mind of the wolf - of Ghost?’  
The man nodded, looking at Gendry and suddenly his eyes went milky white and there was something _less present_ about his body. 

Moments later the wolf itself emerged from the trees behind the man. It came to sit beside him and the man turned his head at the same time as it did. They both stared straight at Gendry and he shivered at the uncanniness of the movement. He almost couldn’t believe what was in front of his eyes. He’d heard of magic - Beric had died and been brought back - but this … right in front of him. He drew in a deep breath and forced his voice to stay steady.  
‘It might be better,’ he said quietly. ‘To be the man, instead of the wolf?’  
They both cocked their heads at him, the man’s eyes still milky and unseeing, the animal’s eyes far too knowing. Then the man blinked and his eyes cleared and he was back.  
Gendry smiled shakily at him, still unsettled by the whole display. This time, the wolf stayed but Gendry got the sense that it would rather be away from him - away from them all - roaming the forest far from men. 

‘Do you do that often?’ He asked, tentatively.  
‘Always,’ the man replied and Gendry looked at him more closely, concerned by this statement. Surely - surely that wasn’t a good thing.  
‘Ah - right. Well, maybe - for now - you could be the man for a while?’ The wild looking stranger considered him for a long time before he finally nodded. Gendry let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding, not sure why he was so invested in the decisions of someone he’d only met the night before. Then he corrected himself - technically he supposed he’d met the man almost a week ago, when the wolf first woke him up. That was a strange thought.

His mind went back to all the times the wolf had leaned against him, the way he’d scratched it around the ears, the many times it had brought them food, had rubbed its head against him in greeting. He looked at the man again, seeing all those interactions in a new light. What on earth had made him, as a wolf, want to be so familiar with Gendry?

‘Why are you here?’ he blurted out, suddenly, unable to stop himself.  
The man’s eyes became confused again, then wary. He took a step back, his stance becoming defensive and Gendry could almost see the thought processes going through his mind. At his side, the wolf stood abruptly, lip pulling back to show its teeth, ears laying back flat against its head.  
‘Stop,’ he said quietly, holding out his hands placatingly. ‘Don’t go. Please. I’m sorry. No more questions.’  
The man hesitated and Gendry could see flight written across his whole body but then he gave a convulsive shudder and stilled, straightening back up. The wolf was slower to calm, but Gendry could see the man’s mood flowing slowly into it, as its stance became less tense. 

Gendry smiled at him, conscious of the effort that the decision to stay present seemed to have taken. ‘Should we go back to the others and see what’s for breakfast?’  
His smile deepened when he saw the man’s ears practically prick in interest. His eyes returned immediately in the direction of the camp. The wolf, however, showed no reaction and when the two men headed off into the trees, it slipped quietly away in the opposite direction. 

The others were all up when they returned and Beric, Thoros and Anguy eyed the man with interest, seeing him clearly in the light of day. The Hound ignored them both.  
Gendry moved over to his bedroll and knelt down to begin rolling it up. The man stayed on the fringes of the camp, eyeing the others warily. Gendry glanced over then beckoned to him. ‘Come here. Get some food and sit down. Here. You can have my bowl.’ He flicked his tin plate to the man whose hand shot out and caught it, lighting fast. He looked down at it for a moment as if wondering what to do with it, then made his way over to the fire and scooped a ladle of porridge out of the pot and on to the plate. He sat down on a log near Gendry, ignoring the others and dipped his fingers in it, scooping some up and bringing it to his mouth, dripping some into his beard as he did so.

The Hound snorted, ‘Your new pet could do with some housetraining.’  
Gendry glared at him then threw the man a spoon. Again his hand shot out and plucked it from the air. He looked down at it a moment, then up at Gendry, then tentatively dipped it into the porridge, bringing the spoon to his mouth. He looked awkward at first but by the time the bowl was scraped clean he looked like any other man having a morning meal … until he brought the plate to his mouth and licked up it with long swipes of his tongue. He caught Gendry’s eye on the third pass and hesitated, bringing the bowl back down and glancing around the circle again. Everyone was watching him and he flushed, looking down, before bringing his arm up to wipe his beard on his furs.

‘Right,’ said Beric, breaking the awkward silence. ‘Let’s pack up and get moving. I assume your - ah - friend - is joining us?’ This last was to Gendry, who looked surprised. When had he become responsible for the man? Then he thought back to last night … and that morning … and the man’s insistence on spending the night beside him. He looked across at the stranger, still sitting on the log and raised his eyebrows.  
‘You coming with us?’  
The man stood, plate dropping to the ground at his feet, and moved to Gendry’s side, standing just close enough that their shoulders brushed together. Gendry found himself strangely pleased at the man’s decision.  
‘I guess that’s a yes,’ Beric said with a smile at the man. He didn’t get anything in return.

They spread out as they walked down the Kingsroad. After a while, Gendry found that he and the stranger had dropped back from the others. As the man walked, he seemed to look everywhere, eyes scanning the forest. Gendry looked at him, curiously.  
‘Is your wolf - is Ghost - nearby?’  
The man shook his head and for a moment his eyes flashed white. Gendry shivered. Then the man turned to him and his eyes were normal. ‘Hunting,’ the man said, and he gave a sharp-toothed grin.  
Gendry was startled at the grin. It had a feral edge to it, but at the same time, it somehow made the man seem younger. More human.  
‘How old are you?’ he asked.  
The man cocked his head to one side and shrugged.  
Gendry tried again. ‘How long have you been out here? Away from people?’  
This time the man thought about it before responding. ‘Moons.’  
‘How many moons?’ Gendry prompted.  
‘Many moons,’ the man agreed. Gendry sighed.  
‘What made you come to this place?’ he asked instead.  
The man looked around the forest, and then looked back at Gendry. ‘Home,’ he said simply.  
Gendry eyed him, ‘Your home, or the wolf’s home?’  
The man looked confused now. ‘Home,’ he said again, as though that closed the matter. Gendry gave up and they continued on in a comfortable silence, the weak afternoon sun shining down through breaks in the tree canopy above.

—————

Later that afternoon, the trees opened up abruptly onto a huge lake, stretching for miles back the way they’d come.  
‘Long Lake, this must be’, Thoros announced, looking at his map.  
‘Fucking original lot, these Northerners,’ the Hound grunted sourly.  
Beric ignored him, ‘There’s supposed to be an old cabin around here somewhere. Let’s have a night inside.’  
Gendry didn’t miss the way the man beside him tensed at those words.

They found the old cabin easily. The door stuck a bit but once they pushed it open they found a decent sized space with a large fireplace and a trestle table in the main area. There was a big copper pot sitting in the hearth - for a moment Gendry was surprised no one had nicked it, but then he remembered there was nothing for miles from this place and they’d have to carry the bloody thing out if they wanted it.

Off to one side of the fireplace were two other rooms. Thoros and Beric dumped their gear in one and Anguy put his things in the others. The Hound dropped his bedroll in the main room, at the opposite end to the fireplace. Gendry looked around the room then put his things near the hearth, thinking a night inside by the fire was just what he needed. He turned around to ask the man what he thought but to his surprise, realised he hadn’t come inside.

He stepped back outside the door to find the stranger outside, eyeing the building with mistrust. He walked up slowly, and made his voice low and soothing when he said, ‘It’s alright. It’s safe in there. You want to come in?’  
The man’s eyes darted to his and then back to the cabin. He took a hesitant, half-step forward. ‘That’s it,’ Gendry encouraged. At the doorway, he paused again, looking uncertainly inside, then back out at the trees, then finally at Gendry.  
‘C’mon,’ Gendry coaxed and then gave a small, proud smile as the man stepped over the threshold with him.

Inside the room, he stayed close by the door, watching Gendry as he moved inside and went to help Thoros with the evening meal. Someone had already lit the fire and it was crackling merrily in the hearth, warming the room. It was several minutes before the man began to relax and eventually he took a few steps further inside and sat on the edge of the trestle table, beside where Gendry was working. He reached across for a piece of dried venison and Gendry eyed his grimy hand.  
‘I don’t want to be rude,’ he murmured, ‘but ... do you want a bath?’  
The man looked across at Gendry, then looked down at himself, seeming to notice for the first time the state of his furs, the dirt covering his hands and encrusted under his nails. He hesitated a moment and then nodded. Gendry smiled at him and dropped the last of the yams he was cutting into the pot in front of him.

‘Let’s heat up some water for you then. I think I saw a tub out the side that looks like it’s been used as a bath before.’ He walked back outside and around to a big old wooden tub and grunted as he heaved it over so it sat facing up. The man watched him carry the first few buckets of water from the lake into the copper pot at the fire. Then he seemed to catch on to what Gendry was doing and picked up the second bucket, joining him.

They tipped water into the big tub next, and by the time they’d half filled it, the big pot on the fire was heated. They went inside together to collect it, the man watching Gendry carefully, then also covering his hands with his leathers before he picked up the heated handle. He didn’t seem to have any trouble with the weight of it and Gendry eyed him anew, wondering just how strong the other man was. None of the men inside the cabin commented on the happenings, a fact for which Gendry was very grateful.

When the water was ready, Gendry placed a bar of soap on the edge of the tub and gestured to it, ‘There you go. Enjoy.’ He went to turn away, to go back inside. The man’s arm shot out, grabbing his and Gendry turned back, surprised. The man reached across and touched Gendry’s jaw, a smooth rasp of fingers that sent a jolt through him. He looked up, eyes wide at the unexpected touch. The man pulled his hand back and then touched his own jaw, covered in thick hair.  
‘Cut?’ he asked. Gendry smiled at him.  
‘Sure. You can shave your beard. Here, you can use my knife.’ He pulled the blade from his belt and handed it to the man, who held it awkwardly for a moment, as though unsure of it. He looked down at the knife and then flicked his hand, changing the grip so that the knife was reversed, ready to slash. He flicked his hand again and the knife spun so it could be stabbed with.

Then the man looked up and grinned into Gendry’s surprised gaze. It was the most human look he’d had from him yet.  
‘You know your way around a blade,’ he observed in admiration.  
‘Stick ‘em with the pointy end,’ the man said, voice raspy. Gendry stared at him in amazement. That was the most words he’d had from the man since he’d appeared. And completely un-prompted. Something about the statement tickled at the back of his mind, but it was pushed aside by the excitement of the man’s newfound language.  
‘Where did you learn to fight?’ he asked, wanting to press the advantage.  
The man’s forehead crinkled as he thought. ‘Brothers,’ he said at last.  
‘You have brothers? How many?’  
But the man wasn’t paying attention any more. He’d turned to the water and was eyeing it with a mixture of distrust and fascination. Abruptly he stabbed the blade into the wood of the bathtub and reached up to un-do the clasp of his fur overcoat, shrugging out of it and letting it fall to the ground.

Gendry turned to leave, but the hand darted out and grabbed him again. ‘Cut,’ the man said, gesturing to the knife. Gendry glanced down at it, then back at the man.  
‘You - you want me to cut your beard?’ he asked, uncertainly.  
The man nodded and kicked off his boots, hands reaching for the bottom of his black shirt.  
‘I - ah - I’m sure you can do it,’ he said, edging away. But the hand gripped him again and this time there was a strength in it that said he would be hard pressed to escape the grip. He sighed and stood by the tub, resigned to the strange turn his life had taken getting stranger. The man seemed satisfied that he wasn’t going to leave and reached down again, stripping his shirt over his head in one smooth movement.

Gendry’s eyes were drawn to the other man’s chest almost involuntarily. His eyes widened in shock at the sight he saw there. Heavy, angry scars littered his chest and abdomen. He looked like he’d been stabbed - more than once. One of the scars was right over his heart, a vicious, ugly thing. How had he survived such injuries?  
Gendry was about to gesture to the scars and ask a question, but he saw the man looking down at his own body, and one dirty hand came up to brush softly over the old wounds. Then the man grimaced and dropped his hand, throwing his shirt to the ground. Without warning his hands came to the ties on his breeches and he unlaced them, dropping them swiftly to the ground and kicking out of them.

He stood completely naked in front of Gendry, totally un-self conscious about the fact. Gendry averted his eyes, unsure where to look. The man cocked his head at Gendry, quizzically.  
‘Ah - in you go,’ Gendry said, making a shooing motion with his hand. The man paused a moment longer before climbing into the tub, sinking down into the heated water with a pleased rumble. The water only came to mid-chest, and his knees were poking up out of it, but he looked very happy with the bath all the same.  
‘Has it been a long time since you had a bath?’ Gendry asked, glancing sideways at him from the corner of his eye.  
‘A long time,’ the man agreed. He reached over to pick up the bar of soap and dipped it in the water, working it between his hands in a lather. Already grime was streaking the soap, and the man held out one of his hands to admire the way the dirt was running off. Then he brought his hand to his face and inhaled.  
‘Smells like you,’ he said, a pleased note in his voice. Gendry looked sideways at him, the comment making his heartbeat skip for a moment. 

The man washed himself all over, taking his time with it and Gendry sat nearby, trying not to feel strange about the whole thing. While the other man washed, Gendry talked, trying to tease more of the man’s story out of him.  
‘How did you become … connected … to Ghost?’ he asked.  
The man paused in his washing, one arm half in the air. ‘Don’t know,’ he said, looking puzzled.  
‘Did you know him before you made the connection?’  
The man nodded emphatically at this, ‘Since a pup.’  
‘You’ve had the direwolf since he was a pup?’ Gendry clarified. The man nodded again.  
‘He’s big now. So you didn’t do the … connection thing with him when he was a pup?’  
The man though about this for a moment and then shook his head. ‘Sometimes dreams of him. Of hunting. Running. Chasing.’ He shrugged, as though this were a perfectly normal thing to dream of. Gendry thought about it for a moment … maybe for him, it was.

Then the man held out the knife, over the edge of the tub, and Gendry pushed himself to his knees and moved closer. He took it and held it awkwardly, looking across at the man opposite him in the tub. He’d never shaved anyone else before.  
‘You’ll need soap I guess,’ he said, trying not to let his eyes drop to the scars on the man’s chest again. He absently noticed that aside from those the man was quite well built, with hard, wiry muscles roping his shoulders and arms.

The man held out the soap to Gendry, who took it, sheathing the knife for a moment. He soaped his hands together and reached out, hesitating a moment before rubbing them through the man’s beard, creating a lather. The man closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly. Gendry rinsed his hands in the water, careful not to brush against the man sitting in it. Then he picked up his knife again and tested the edge with his thumb. It was sharp … he’d known it would be. He took a deep breath and leaned over, setting his fingertips against the man’s cheekbone as he brought the blade to it and scraped down. With a rasp, a chunk of black beard came away. Gendry flicked the hair off his knife and then repeated the action. He shaved down the man’s face, brow furrowed in concentration. As he reached the man’s jaw, Gendry pushed slightly at him to tilt his head up, so he could do his neck.

For a moment, dark eyes shot to his and there was a hint of resistance, then he seemed to relax and leant his head back, baring his neck. Gendry scraped down it. He used long, sure strokes as he removed the man’s beard, bit by bit. He tried to ignore the way the other man’s skin felt under his fingertips, or the contented rumble he’d begun to emit from deep in his chest.

When he was done, he sat back on his heels a moment, admiring his own handiwork. The man opened his eyes to meet Gendry’s and suddenly he was captured by his face for the first time. His back hair curled wetly, framing a face that … without the beard he looked younger, about Gendry’s age. But he was … he was chiseled. His cheek bones were high, his jaw was strong and his _mouth_. His lips were …

Gendry pushed those thoughts away and dropped his gaze, suddenly uncomfortable. Where the fuck had that come from. The man’s nostrils flared, as though he had been able to read Gendry’s train of thought. Gendry stood abruptly.  
‘I’ll get you something to wear so you can wash your clothes out as well,’ he mumbled, as he turned towards the cabin.

When the man entered the cabin later, wet clothes in hand, the Hound snarked something about liking them pretty. Gendry ignored him. It was getting easier to do. The man came and sat close beside him at the table for dinner, a warm presence along his side.  
When he was passed a bowl of stew by Thoros, he uttered a ‘thank you,’ and every head around the table turned to stare at him.

Suddenly a barrage of questions were launched at him.  
‘Who are you?’  
‘Where are you from?’  
‘What are you doing out here?’

His eyes narrowed and he leaned in against Gendry’s side, lip staring to curl up, fingers whitening where he gripped the table top.  
‘Hey!’ Gendry shouted over the noise. ‘Hey! Cut it out. He doesn’t remember okay. Now leave him be.’ He glared around the table, feeling strangely protective of the man, and the others subsided, muttering. Beric gave him a look that said they would be talking more later.

Under the table, Gendry was startled to suddenly feel a thigh press up hard against his. He looked down, but the man beside him was resolutely focussed on the meal in front of himself. He felt a glow of warmth at this silent thank you. 

That night, when the man curled up behind him, in front of the fire, he pressed his face against Gendry’s neck again, breathing him in. This time, Gendry didn’t push him away.

———

On waking the next day, the man had seemed to gain another layer of his humanity back. He’d sat across from Thoros as he’d prepared breakfast and at one point had helped him shred up some jerky. Thoros had tried engaging him in conversation, but he’d remained mute, eyes flicking back to Gendry as if to reassure himself of the other man’s location.

Beric noticed this and beckoned to Gendry, gesturing to him to step outside. As he did so, the man’s head shot up and he made to rise from the table. Gendry raised his hands, ‘Stay there, it’s fine. I’ll be back in a moment.’  
The man looked anxious, but he subsided, eyes following Gendry out the door.

When they were out of earshot of the cabin, Beric turned to Gendry.  
‘What’s going on lad? What’s his story?’  
Gendry hesitated, suddenly unsure what he should say - almost feeling like he was betraying the man’s confidence. Beric eyed him knowingly.  
‘He’s a warg, isn’t he.’ It was less of a question than a statement, but Gendry just looked at him, uncomprehending.  
‘A what?’  
‘A warg,’ Beric repeated impatiently. ‘He takes the body of his wolf.’  
Gendry stared at him, ‘How did you know?’  
The other man snorted, ‘Pretty bloody obvious if you know what to look for. He go too far, did he? Get lost?’  
Gendry eyed him for a moment then decided to tell him everything he knew. Maybe Beric would have some advice that could help the man. ‘He - he’s not sure how he joined with the wolf, and he said it was many moons ago - but I’m not sure how long that is. He said he does it all the time.’  
Beric grunted, ‘By the looks of him he does. From what I’ve heard about wargs, it’s a fine line they walk between human and animal. The more time they spend inside the mind of the animal … the harder it is for the mind of the man to survive. I wonder what it was that drew him back out.’  
Gendry shrugged, ‘I asked him, but he just got all funny and defensive. I didn’t want to push him back into the wolf. It’s almost like second nature to him.’ He shuddered, remembering it. ‘It’s a bit creepy.’  
Beric nodded, ‘Whatever you’re doing seems to be working. Just … be careful with him, lad. There’s still a lot of the animal inside him and direwolves … they’re dangerous. Vicious. You don’t want him to turn on you.’

Gendry thought about that for a moment, but he just couldn’t imagine a scenario in which he would be at threat from the man. Some of his feelings must have shown on his face, because Beric spoke again.  
‘… You might want to be careful as well not to get too … attached to him. Or not to let him get too attached to you, anyway. Like I said, there’s a lot of the animal in him. There probably always will be now. And wolves - they’re pack animals. They bond and then they stay bonded. You might want to consider what your long-term plans are involving a … companion. Before things go too far.’  
Gendry gaped at him. Was the other man saying what he thought he was? With the Hound it had been easy to ignore his crude comments … but this. Was Beric saying the man might latch on to him as a … a mate?  
The older man clapped him on the shoulder soundly and then turned to go back inside. Gendry stayed rooted to the spot, staring after him, unable to decide exactly what he thought about that idea.

——

The thought didn’t leave him all day and he eyed the man every time he came near him. Surely not - surely Beric had been mistaken. The man was only sticking close by him because he was the one who’d shown any form of friendliness to him. There was nothing more in it than that. His casual touches and the way his gaze constantly tracked Gendry were just the animal in him needing comfort. He told himself firmly that there was nothing deeper than that in it.

But he couldn’t help noticing the grace with which the man moved, the strength in his body, the perception in his gaze when it turned to Gendry. And that face … he shook the thoughts away again. He couldn’t even let his mind entertain the thought - it would be … the man wasn’t in his right mind. It would be taking advantage of him if something were to happen. If he wanted something to happen. Which he didn’t. He frowned to himself and pushed the thoughts away in frustration.

The man had seemed to pick up that something had changed. As the day wore on his stance became more hunched, his eyes averted, and he began to hang back from Gendry. Looking at him, Gendry was reminded of nothing so much as a kicked dog. He felt a stab of guilt at the thought that the other man was picking up on his own inner turmoil and was internalising himself as the reason. But then he thought back to Beric’s words about not getting too attached. He deliberately didn’t make any move to reassure the man. Maybe this was for the best.

It was late that afternoon when they heard the sound of hooves coming quickly up the road from behind them. It was the stranger who heard them first. He froze, head cocked to listen. He’d already been lagging behind the rest of the group, so no one noticed at first. By the time the Hound heard the sound and called out a warning, it was too late. The horses had rounded the corner and they’d already been spotted. There were ten men, all dressed in leathers and furs. It wasn’t until they’d ridden up, forming a lose circle around the men on the ground, that Gendry caught sight of the sigil on one of the men’s shields. It was an upside down flayed man. He shivered involuntarily. They were Bolton men.

‘Well, well,’ sneered one of them. ‘Just where are you lot off to? These are Northern lands. You don’t look like Northerners to me.’  
The Hound made to open his mouth but Beric gave him a warning glare.  
‘We’re just travelling through, friend. It’s the Kingsroad, open to all travellers.’  
The horses around them shifted on their feet as their riders tightened rains and shifted on their seats.  
‘That right? Traveling through?’ the man on the horse who’d spoken first said. ‘It’s hard times. There’s a war on. How do we know you’re not spies.’

‘Do we look like fucking spies?’ the Hound growled.  
The man eyed him. ‘You look like trouble. I think Lord Bolton will want to talk to you. You’re coming with us.’ He spoke with the authority of a man who was used to having his commands followed, usually because people were afraid to do otherwise, Gendry guessed, from the cruel look in his eyes.  
‘Sorry, friend,’ Beric said with a shrug. ‘We have other business. We’re going to be on our way.’  
The leader of the group gave a grim glare to the others in his party and suddenly swords were drawn, the sound of steel ringing in the air.

Everyone in Gendry’s party did the same, Gendry hefting his hammer between his hands, reassured by the familiar weight.  
‘Going to play it like that, boys?’ He man on the horse queried, a strange joy in his voice. Then he kicked his horse forward, swinging his sword as he did so. The others all did the same and then Gendry had no time to think. He swung his hammer up to meet the sword bearing down at him. The steel rang and then he was shouldered roughly aside, stumbling backwards as the horse slammed into his side. He span to meet another blade, blocking and then swinging out in turn, smashing into the man’s leg with his hammer. His opponent screamed and the horse wheeled. 

All around him he could hear grunts and screams and then the sharp sound of a horse in agony. He glanced across to see that the wild man had taken two knives from somewhere and his hands were bloody as he moved with feral speed between the riders, cutting at the the horses - at their legs, their bellies. Gendry felt sick to watch it, but it was working. The men were jumping free of lamed mounts and the combat was now fierce and hand to hand. 

He saw a man go down but couldn’t spare a glance for who. The man whose leg he’d smashed stuck out at him sharply from the side and Gendry brought his hammer up just in time, wheeling around. The man struck again and Gendry bunched his muscles, parrying with all his force, pushing the man back onto his wounded leg - off balance. The man’s eyes widened and he brought his sword up but Gendry reversed his grip, swinging the hammer with a roar. It smashed through the man’s guard and embedded itself in his chest. He looked down at it, face sick and shocked, then collapsed backwards to the ground. 

Gendry’s hammer was pulled from his hands and he stepped forward to retrieve it. Suddenly, from the corner of his eye he saw movement and he ducked instinctively, falling to his knees. A sword came whistling through the air just above his head. He dived forward as the sword came again. Gendry wrenched his hammer free from the dead man’s chest and held it above himself, one hand on the handle, one on the head, as he sprawled awkwardly on his back. A second later the sword came down again, sparking off the weapon as it hit Gendry’s block. He gasped in panic as he saw the man raise the blade again, this time to stab. There was no way he could move quickly en- 

Then a ferocious black blur hit his opponent with a snarl, drawing him to the ground. Blades glinted wetly in the light and then struck down, severing his throat in a hot spray of blood. The figure crouched over his dead opponent whipped his head around, looking for Gendry, eyes wide and feral, chest heaving. He was coated in blood. It drenched his arms and there was some around his mouth ... Gendry met his eyes, feeling a jolt deep inside his chest at the intensity of his gaze. The man had saved his life. 

Around him he realised the sounds of battle were dying down. Only moans and the cries of the horses remained. He glanced around, dimly registering that the four men left upright were their men, though bloody with wounds. Gendry levered himself to his feet and suddenly the man was all over him. His hands were running over Gendry’s body frantically, as though checking for an injury. He crowded against Gendry, pushing him backwards until he thudded into a tree. Then he pushed in closer. 

He buried his face in Gendry’s neck, whining quietly, rubbing his cheek, his jaw, against Gendry’s skin, breathing him in. Gendry brought his hands up cautiously, pushing against the man’s shoulders gently. His touch had absolutely no effect.  
‘Hey,’ he murmured softly. ‘It’s okay. I’m alright. I’m not hurt. You got there in time, okay?’ He kept his voice soothing and soft. The man seemed to relax somewhat. The whining sound stopped but his face was still buried in Gendry’s neck.

Gendry brought his hands up again to push them harder against the man’s shoulders. This time though, the response was a rumbling growl and the hands on him tightened, fingers digging into him through the heavy furs he wore. Gendry subsided and the man pushed in again, rubbing his face against Gendry’s neck. Then he was startled to feel a hot, wet tongue lick its way up his skin. The jolt of heat he felt follow it surprised him even more.  
‘Hey,’ he said quietly. ‘Hey it’s okay, you don’t need to do that. I’m fine. Okay?’  
The man at his neck ignored him, breathing him in again before licking once more, hands still fisted in Gendry’s clothes. 

The man whined against him again.  
‘Need - I need - please,’ his voice was raspy and desperate and as he spoke his teeth grazed Gendry’s neck lightly. Gendry shuddered under his grip, at the heat of his breath, at his words. Maybe it was the come-down from the adrenaline of battle - the relief of coming through it unscathed. He couldn’t help himself. He tilted his head back, baring his neck to the man. He had a feeling he knew what the other needed. And he realised as he moved, that maybe he wanted it too. 

The man growled deep and possessive at his change of position and the stubbled jaw rasped against his neck again. Then the teeth were back. Lightly again, just a nip, that made him shudder. Then another hot lick and another. Gendry’s eyes were closed now, head back against the tree. His own hands had come up to rest loosely on the man’s hips and he seemed to rumble in appreciation at the touch. 

The man nosed at his neck, pushing still closer so their bodies were hard against each other. Then his mouth closed on Gendry’s neck. He bit lightly at first and Gendry gave a breathy gasp at the sensation, heat running through him. The man seemed to respond to the sound and he bit down harder, with a low growl of satisfaction. Gendry felt a flare of pain mixed with hot pleasure and he grunted at the sensation - at the bite. His grip tightened on the other man’s hips. He pulled him in harder, moaning softly at the feeling of the teeth on his neck, the body hard against his, the -

‘Break it up you two,’ came a voice from behind them.  
The man’s head came up from Gendry’s neck and he swung around, snarling viciously, stance defensive in front of Gendry. Gendry’s eyes snapped open and he reached out and caught the other man by the shoulder, pulling him back roughly, turning him around so their eyes met. He stared directly into the other man’s hot, dark eyes, seeing the wolf reflected in them.  
‘Hey! It’s okay,’ he rasped. His hands came up to either side of the man’s face and he held him still. ‘It’s okay,’ he repeated, more softly. 

The wild, dangerous look in the man’s eyes faded slowly and Gendry pulled him forward so their foreheads touched. As he did so, the man he let out a shuddering breath and relaxed against him, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, the wolf was gone and the man was back. He reached out a hand to brush softly against the bite mark, high on Gendry’s neck. Gendry shivered under his touch.  
‘Mine,’ the man murmured, eyes returning to Gendry’s, an intensity in them that frightened him. And he wondered, suddenly, dazedly, what he’d just done. 

He broke the eye contact and pushed away from the tree, returning to the others, with the man close by his side, brushing up against him as they walked. With each step his mind got clearer and the carnage in front of him took precedence over the other thoughts swirling around in his mind. 

They’d created a battlefield. Beric was sitting on the ground, looking pale and weak and Gendry was shocked to see a huge, blood-soaked rip in the side of his furs, almost like ... almost like ... He looked closer at the four Bolton men sprawled in death around Beric, then at the angry frown on Thoros’ face as he eyed Beric wearily.  
‘Did you just ...?’ He couldn’t bring himself to say the word _die_ , to make it real. But Beric looked wearily up at him anyway and nodded. 

Gendry gaped at him and suddenly his problems seemed inconsequential. He looked around at the men, lying still and twisted on the ground, at Anguy bending over one last one, stabbing in hard and fast. His eyes caught and held on the horses, with their dreadful wounds. They, too, had been put out of their misery. All except two, still standing, shying away from the blood and death around them. Their bridles had been looped around a nearby branch a few paces away.

The Hound was wiping his sword on the cloak of one of the dead men, scowling down at him. He had a gash on his upper arm, but it didn’t seem to be bothering him too much. He spat at the soldier when he was done and then caught Gendry’s eye.  
‘The fuck do you want?’  
Gendry just shook his head and looked back at Beric. The other man was climbing slowly and painfully to his feet.  
‘We need to get out of here. Leave this. We have no hope of moving the horses.’  
Thoros looked at him with concern, ‘You should ride.’ Beric looked as though he wanted to protest, but then his knees buckled and he would have dropped if the other man hadn’t stepped up beside him. He nodded tiredly and moved to one of the horses.

They pushed on for a few hours, none of them talking much, and then when dusk was falling they came to a bridge.  
‘Long River,’ Thoros muttered and they left the road, following the river and moving much further back into the forest than normal, Anguy following behind them to mask their trail. 

They set up camp slowly, tiredly, and then washed, one by one in the river in the darkness, washing the blood and sweat and grime of the day off them. Anguy unsaddled the horses and tied them loosely as well, leaving them cropping grass. When Gendry curled up by the fire that night, it was with bone-weary tiredness. But it wasn’t until the man lay down at his back, curling in tight against him, that he relaxed. After that, sleep took him swiftly.

——

The next day they pushed hard, wanting to distance themselves from the carnage back on the road.  
‘We should be out of this damned forest in another day or so,’ Thoros revealed when they stopped briefly to eat, Beric sliding down from the back of the horse and looking much stronger than the day before. Gendry glanced across at the man at his side at these words. He looked … distressed, at the thought. Gendry walked a few steps away from the others, the man following him.  
‘Are you okay?’ he asked quietly.  
The other man hesitated before answering, looking around at the trees as though searching for something. ‘I … he … doesn’t want to leave.’  
Gendry looked around too. ‘The wolf?’  
There was a jerky nod.  
‘Is he here?’  
The man hesitated again. ‘Close.’  
That made Gendry think of something that had been tickling at his mind. ‘Where was he yesterday, during the fight?’  
A stab of pain crossed the man’s face. ‘Far. He doesn’t like men. Not anymore. He wanted to be far away.’  
‘But now he’s come back?’  
The man nodded again, looking off into the woods. When Gendry followed his gaze he couldn’t see anything.  
‘Will he come out of the forest with us?’ Gendry asked, watching the man closely. Again, there was pain on his face, a twisted conflict. He didn’t answer and suddenly Gendry had a thought that ran through him like ice. ‘Will _you_?’  
Again there was hesitation. The man looked away, back into the woods, for a long moment. Then he looked at Gendry, eyes roving over his face, dropping down to the teeth marks that were still etched high on his neck. Finally, he nodded, slowly. Gendry felt a flood of relief that surprised him in its intensity. He smiled at the other man and reached out to grasp his shoulder. The other man leaned into him, as though taking comfort from the touch.

They broke apart when Beric called that it was time to keep moving. As they walked together, side by side, Gendry again had the urge to find out more about this mystery of a man beside him.  
‘Do you remember anything else?’ Gendry asked as they walked. ‘From before the wolf?’  
The man thought for a few moments, eyes turning inwards, then he started speaking, slowly at first. ‘I remember … a tree … a huge tree with red, red eyes. And … darkness. Somewhere below the ground.’  
‘A den?’ Gendry asked, glancing across at him.  
The man frowned, ‘… no. It was a man’s place. Inside it was people. Stone people.’  
Gendry frowned, unsure what he could be referring to. ‘You mean like statues?’  
‘Statues,’ the man repeated absently. It was clear that his thoughts had already moved on. ‘There was stories … stories of giants and children and things in the night …’ his voice drifted into silence as he thought.

‘Why did you stay as the wolf?’ Gendry asked, breaking him from his thoughts.  
The man frowned, considering it. ‘When I was the wolf I was safe. I was strong and fast. There was only the hunt and the run and the moon to think of.’

‘Why did you decide to come out of - of the wolf?’ Gendry asked curiously.  
The man looked across at him, and his eyes seemed almost … shy, for a moment.  
‘I - Ghost - saw you. You … smelled good. Like safety … like home.’  
Gendry stared at him, eyes wide with amazement, and felt something jump in his chest at the words. He smiled softly at the man. ‘Well, I’m glad you did decide to come out.’  
The man smiled back at him, and Gendry felt a glow at the warmth at it.

————

Early the next day, the trees began to thin. The man beside Gendry began to walk slower and slower as it happened. Gendry didn’t notice for a few minutes until he glanced back to see the man a fair distance behind him, looking around into the woods as though he wanted to edge forward into the trees again.  
‘Hold up for a minute,’ he called to the others and jogged back to where the man stood.  
‘Hey, you coming?’  
The man’s eyes jerked up to his and there was a slightly hunted look in them.  
‘It’s okay,’ he said softly, reaching out to take the other man’s hand. The man looked down at their linked fingers, brushing his thumb lightly against Gendry’s hand.  
‘We - we don’t want to,’ he whispered quietly, looking down as though ashamed. Gendry put two fingers under the other man’s chin and tilted his head up softly so the man was looking into his eyes.

‘It’s okay,’ he repeated quietly. ‘You’ll be safe with me. I promise.’  
‘There’s men out there,’ the other man said, voice still quiet. ‘Men with steel teeth and cages and -‘  
‘Hey,’ Gendry interrupted him gently. ‘ _You’re_ men. I don’t know how this works, but try not to let Ghost’s thoughts in right now okay. You need to make a decision about what _you_ want.’  
The man looked at him, eyes wide, and vulnerable, and he bit his bottom lip. Gendry felt his heart skip slightly at the look.  
‘Do you want to come?’ Gendry asked, tone hesitant.  
The man glanced back into the woods and Gendry followed his gaze. He caught a flash of white fur and his breath caught. He dropped the man’s hand, and when startled eyes turned to his, Gendry said, ‘Go to him. Go to him and figure out what you want.’  
Gendry watched him as he walked to the huge direwolf, who was now standing at the edge of the road, watching the man approaching him with fierce red eyes.

The man stopped a few paces away from it and they watched each other, the wolf’s eyes nearly level with the man’s. Gendry had the uncanny feeling they were communicating. Then he realised, feeling foolish, they probably were. It was a long moment that the two of them stood, silent. Gendry felt himself holding his breath, heart starting to pound in his chest. The man’s stance had stiffened and Gendry could almost see the pain in it.

The wolf moved forward one quick pace, pushing its huge head against the man’s neck for a moment. The man raised one arm, but before he could touch it, the animal had gone, disappearing back into the forest with one swift leap. The man’s arm remained outstretched for a little longer before he dropped it heavily back to his side and bowed his head. He didn’t meet Gendry’s eye when he turned to walk back towards the group and Gendry could feel the hurt radiating from him.

Gendry glared fiercely at the others, warning them to keep silent. Surprisingly not even the Hound spoke, all of them looking at the man with sympathetic eyes.

He was quiet when they continued walking. He didn’t look back but Gendry could almost feel the yearning in him. He reached out and slipped his own hand into the other man’s. He received a small, grateful, glance at the movement, and calloused fingers twined tightly around his.

———

It was another few hours before they left the Wolfswood behind and finally entered farmland again. There was a mountain range out to the West, but to the East were green fields and here and there a house was dotted.  
‘This must be the start of the Gift,’ Thoros informed them. ‘The men at the Night’s Watch use it to supply themselves.’ He frowned. ‘But I would have thought it would be more inhabited than this.’  
Gendry looked around as well. Of the houses they could see in the distance, none had smoke curling from their chimneys or people moving in the fields. ‘Surely the war hasn’t come this far North.’  
‘Maybe not,’ Beric replied. ‘But I bet these men were called up by some Lord or other to fight. Either that or enemies from the North - what do they call them? Wildlings? - raided them. Either way. Gives us somewhere comfortable to spend the night tonight.’

They walked until near dusk and then approached a large farmhouse, with a barn and yards out the side. The yards were empty of animals, as was the barn. But the house was still comfortable, and Thoros managed to unearth two jugs of wine, which had him in raptures. Reluctantly he shared one around and before long, things inside the house were getting loud. Gendry eyed the man sitting beside him, who was looking more and more edgy as the night wore on. It had been a long day and Gendry knew he was still dwelling on the loss of his wolf. Gendry nudged him and tilted his head to the door, a questioning look in his eyes. The man nodded and they both rose. The others didn’t even notice them leave.

They retreated to the barn, leaving the doors wide open and climbing the ladder into the platform above the small stables. The horses shifted and moved below them, snorting comfortably in the darkness. Surprisingly there was still some hay, dry and clean. Gendry spread out his bedroll on it and lay back, rolling on to one side and sighing in pleasure at the comfort of a soft bed underneath him. The man shrugged out of his heavy furs and lay down beside him, head pillowed on one arm, leaving a gap of a few handspans between them. The moon was full tonight, and its light filtered into the barn, casting a silvery glow over everything. Gendry found that he wasn’t sleepy, and the man didn’t seem to be either. He was wide awake, watching Gendry quietly, his eyes still sad, but somehow resolute as well.

‘How are you feeling?’ Gendry asked quietly, into the soft night.  
There was a rustle as the other man sighed, shifting slightly. ‘I know it was the right thing … I think somewhere inside I’ve known for a while. Ghost is a wolf. He’s not meant to be a man … to carry a man’s thoughts with him. Our life …his life … it wasn’t a good thing for him.’ He sighed again, more deeply, and pain crossed his face. ‘… but it hurts,’ he whispered.  
Gendry reached out to him, unable to stop himself, and cupped one hand on the side of other man’s face, rubbing his thumb softly over the man’s cheek. The other man leaned into the touch, closing his eyes with a soft sound of contentment.

Gendry watched him, warmth curling in his chest. He wanted to keep the conversation going, but to steer it away from the loss of the wolf. He decided to push a little further, the man had been opening up more and more, seeming to remember little details. He pulled his hand back and the man open his eyes again, frowning slightly as he did so.

‘Do you know where you’re from? Where else you’ve been, before now? Before the woods?’  
The man’s eyes turned introspective and he reached out to pluck a piece of hay, toying with it between his fingers.  
‘I remember snow, and ice. So much cold. But I wasn’t cold - Ghost wasn’t cold? - I’m not sure. There was ice as high as I could see … and I went through it. Men, also. Men fighting … things? I was fighting.’  
Gendry eyed him, something in his words triggering a thought.  
‘I think that’s the Wall. And you’re all in black, aren’t you? I didn’t think anything of it before now … were you in the Night’s Watch? Does that mean anything to you?’ He didn’t share his other thoughts about the Watch - once a man was sworn in, it was for life … deserters were killed. He remembered the scars he’d seen on the man’s body … killed indeed. He shivered slightly and realised the man was talking again.  
‘… maybe does sound right. I - I think maybe something bad happened. I remember pain and darkness and howling - silently howling. I - I left that place - I had to get away -’ The man’s voice was coming faster, the pieces of hay clenched in his fist. Gendry reached out a hand to place it on the man’s arm and he shuddered under Gendry’s grip.  
‘It’s okay. That time has gone. You’re not there now. Let’s talk of something else.’ He thought for a moment, then wondered if this was a question that might cause more pain than the previous had. He decided something before the Watch might help trigger happier memories.

‘You mentioned brothers the other day. Do you have a family? Do you remember other people?’  
He received a startled look, as though the man hadn’t considered this question for a very long time. He thought for a moment, brow furrowed.  
‘Two sisters and three brothers,’ he replied, concentrating hard. ‘Four - their voices are silenced. I don’t dream of them any more. Only one sister still runs free.’ Then he paused and shook his head, as though trying to shake a thought free.  
‘No,’ he whispered. ‘That’s not right. That’s the wolf. I - _my brother_ \- one brother is gone. Robb … Robb and Grey Wind. They killed him. They killed them both.’ His voice was a low whine and a look of anguish splintered across his face as he said this. ‘The rest are ... lost?’  
‘Do you remember their names?’ Gendry asked softly, feeling this was important. 

‘Lady is gone ... Sansa - hair like autumn leaves. Shaggydog is gone - and little Rickon, just as wild and fierce as he was. Summer is gone and ... Bran - so weak last time I saw him.’ Gendry waited with bated breath, the man’s gaze was turned inwards, as though he was searching deep inside himself.  
‘The one who still hunts is Nymeria ... and she - she's seen my sister Arya.’ The man’s eyes widened in amazement and surprise as he registered his own words. ‘Arya is alive!’

Gendry started in shock at the familiar name, taking a closer look at the man. There _couldn’t_ be many girls called Arya ... a brother at the Wall? ... what had she said her brother’s name was ... it came to him and he looked up, mouth open to speak. But the man beat him to it. He looked up as well and met Gendry’s eyes, a dawning sense of comprehension in his own. 

‘Jon,’ he whispered, eyes wide. ‘My name is Jon.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! (not) It was Jon haha.
> 
> Please, please, please leave me a comment and tell me what you thought of that.
> 
> I really enjoyed writing Jon-as-wolf and I hope it came across well :)
> 
>  
> 
> For a great map of where they’re going, see here: https://quartermaester.info


	3. Jon

‘Jon,’ I hear the words coming from my own mouth. ‘My name is Jon.’ My heart is beating frantically in my chest and I can feel my eyes widen as those words seem to unlock a flood - a torrent - of memories. 

I see Winterfell - tall and strong and ever lasting, father’s smile - the hint of pain it always held, Bran climbing - young and fearless and whole. I feel Arya’s tight arms around my neck and the bite of a cold so fierce I feel like I’ll freeze alive. I see the world spread out before me from the top of the Wall and the glare of ice-blue eyes that have death in them. I see Sam’s determination, Mormont’s last breath. I feel the rending pain as I read that Robb is dead and I have to choose and choose again to stay at my post. I hear the cheer of ‘Lord Commander’ and remember the words of my oath. 

I feel the bite of cold steel and betrayal. I feel the terror of my last breath. 

Image after image blurs through my mind, running faster and faster. It’s too much, all of a sudden to have who I am - what I am - what I was - heartache, sorrow, loss, pain - all running back into my mind. Distantly I hear myself whimper, my eyes are squeezed tightly shut now and I curl in on myself, panting raggedly. Trying to escape from the memories - from myself. 

Then suddenly, he’s there. His hands are cool and soft. One on the back of my neck, clasping gently as one would a frightened pup, the other rubbing slowly through my hair. He’s talking too, soft, rumbling words that I can’t even hear. But I don’t need to. He’s there. His touch, his scent, his feeling of safety - of home - all sink into me. They give me something to anchor to - to hold on to - as the memories wash over me.  
Finally. Finally, I feel like I can breathe again. I take a deep, shaking breath that somehow feels more like a sob, and I uncurl from where I’m lying on my side in the hay. When I look up, he’s looking back down at me, blue eyes full of concern and ... something I can’t quite read. I give him a small smile and he smiles back at me. And now I can see relief and so much warmth in his gaze that it sparks a little bloom of warmth inside my chest too.

His whole face lights up when he smiles. I hadn’t noticed that before. It was less important than the feel of him, the sense that he was _right_ for me, somehow. _Mine_ , a wolf growls, deep inside my chest. My thoughts jerk to a stop and I pull back to look at that idea.  
_I am a man, not a wolf. And he’s not mine ... nor would he want to be. Who would want to be mated to a warg?_ I stop myself again with an angry shake of my head. Men do not _mate_. Animals mate. I am _not_ the wolf. I am Jon. 

His voice breaks into my thoughts. ‘Jon, are you okay?’ His voice is gentle when he asks but now I think I can see pity in his face. I seem to have lost the knack of reading human emotions. It is easier to scent and sense than to look and guess. But this. This feels like pity and suddenly I can’t bear to have another look at me with that gaze.

Robb used to look at me with pity. Every time I couldn’t eat with him. Or ride with him. Or greet guests with him. Pity cuts deeper than blades.  
Suddenly I’m angry. It’s too much. Everything is too much. I can feel my hackles rising. I need to get out of here. Get away from this barn. These walls. Feel the night air. I push away from him, ignoring the wounded look that crosses his face.  
Before he can say anything I’m out, jumping from the platform above the stables to the ground in an easy spring. Something inside me grins savagely at the movement. I might have lost a lot of what made me a man. But Ghost gave me many things in return. 

When I’m out of the barn I run. I run and run into the vast, open landscape. I run until I can’t think. Until my breath rips through my chest in great heaving pants and all I can feel is the thunder of my heartbeat. Then I stop. I fall to my knees, then slump onto my back in the grass, looking up at the endless sky above me, dotted with stars. It’s quiet around me. Quiet and empty and dark. My senses feel stunted. Muffled. Human. 

I can’t feel Ghost any more. His absence inside me is like a great, gaping hole - a wound where a part of me used to be. I miss him. I miss him so much. Without him I feel weaker. He made me feel strong, and safe. Ghost was home. Ghost was family. Now. Now there is just me.  
_And Gendry_ , a voice inside me murmurs. That’s his name. The big man with such gentle hands. I push the thoughts of him away again. 

I don’t know how long I stay out there. Watching the sky. Thinking. Remembering. When I make my way back to the farm, it’s at a walk. I feel calmer now. Dawn is just creeping across the sky when I spot the big barn again. Before I reach it, Gendry comes around the side of the building, pacing quickly. I see a groove at his feet that makes me think he’s been treading this path a while. I feel a stab of remorse for my actions - surely he hasn’t been up all night worrying over me?

At that moment he looks up and spots me and he stops dead in his tracks. Then he crosses the ground between us in a few swift steps. Before I know it, he’s pulled me to him, holding me tight against him and his face is buried in my neck. Without even thinking about it, I bring my hands up to grip his arms and tilt my head to the side, baring my neck in submission. In apology. He clutches me tighter and his face bushes against my skin. I can feel his lips at my neck and I wonder if he’ll bite down - claim me as I claimed him. Something inside me rumbles happily at the thought. 

Gendry pulls back a moment later, and I realise that I’ve unconsciously been letting out a quiet growl of pleasure. I stop immediately but he’s looking down at the ground and rubbing one hand through his short hair, as though embarrassed.  
‘I’m - ah- sorry about that,’ he gestures vaguely at my throat. ‘Are you okay? Where have you been all night? Are you hungry?’

I feel bombarded suddenly by all the questions and I back up a step. Instantly he looks apologetic and puts his hand up as though wanting to reach out and stop my movement. But he doesn’t touch me.   
‘Sorry,’ he says again. Softly this time. ‘Sorry. Want to sit? Watch the sun rise?’ He gestures over at the fence, a distance away from the small farm house, and I nod. We walk to the fence side-by-side, neither speaking. When we climb up to sit on it, I lean in against him slightly, resting our shoulders together. He doesn’t say anything, but out of the corner of my eye, I catch his small smile. It makes me smile in return. 

We sit quietly like that, as the sky lights up with red and orange and pink, a riot of colour that marks a new day. A new beginning. 

——-  
My stomach rumbles loudly and he glances across at me.  
‘Breakfast?’ he asks with an eyebrow raised.  
I nod, but the thought of going inside, facing the others, makes my gut churn.  
He seems to read my apprehension because he says, ‘We don’t have to tell them you remembered who you are, if you don’t want to.’  
I think about that for a moment. It’s tempting. It would be easier. But then I shake my head. I’m Jon Snow. I wasn’t a coward before, I’ll be damned if I’ll be a coward now. I’ve done enough running, enough hiding.  
‘No,’ I say out loud. ‘I can’t pretend. I know who I am. I can’t lose that again.’ Then I hesitate and embarrassment creeps into my voice. ‘What are their names again? The wolf didn’t much care for such things.’

Gendry smiles at me, like he understands, ‘I’m Gendry -‘ he begins and I cut him off impatiently.  
‘I know who _you_ are,’ I say. His smile is wide and happy as he takes that in. 

——

When we walk in the door of the small farm house, all four men are already up, sitting around the table, breaking their fast. Three of them - Beric, Thoros and Anguy - glance up at us. The fourth ignores us, focussed on his meal.  
Gendry clears his throat and gestures at me. ‘This is Jon Snow. He’s remembered who he is. He’s - come back.’

‘Jon Snow,’ Beric says, considering me and comprehension lights his eyes. ‘Lord Commander Jon Snow of the Night’s Watch?’  
All eyes in the room turn to me and I stiffen. ‘That man is dead,’ I growl.  
I see Gendry’s eyes drop to my chest, to the scars he knows are covered by my shirt.  
‘I’m just Jon.’  
The leader - Beric - opens his mouth to press the point, but a swift glare and a shake of the head from Gendry has him subsiding. I look between Gendry and Beric, confused now. Who’s calling the shots here? I didn’t take Gendry for the alpha when I was travelling with them before. 

Then I pull my thoughts in. Men are more complicated than that. There are always layers of meaning and shades of grey when men interact. It’s not just the strongest and most dominant who leads. 

‘I knew your sisters,’ the hulking, scar-faced man grunts as he eyes me, his meal sitting forgotten now. Him - him I have a vague memory of, from before. He came to Winterfell, with the King. The Hound. But his words are what stab into me. I bring my head up sharply, to eye him in return. ‘What do you know of them?’  
‘It’s been a long time since I saw the little bird. I tried to get her to come with me when I left the Lannister hellpit. But she preferred the gilded bars of her cage to reality,’ he mutters and I realise he must be talking about Sansa. That description suits her - or suited her anyway. I wonder if she’s changed as much as I have over the years. 

‘As for the other one,’ he continues, ‘Prickliest, most savage, pig-headed little shit of a kid I ever met,’ he says, eyes burning into me and chin set like he’s just spoiling for a fight. Suddenly the room seems tenser and I look around at all the people in it. They’re looking at me - like they’re waiting for me to blow up. But to everyone’s surprise - maybe mostly mine - I laugh. I throw my head back and laugh and laugh to think of Arya going head to head with the Hound. Little Arya, to whom my parting gift was a smuggled sword. 

At the confused looks shot my way, I snort with laughter again. ‘That’s pretty much the best description of my little sister I’ve ever heard,’ I grin at the Hound.  
Despite himself, I think, a small smile crosses his face too and his eyes soften slightly, ‘Braver than ten men, that slip of a girl was.’

‘She saved my life,’ Gendry cuts in. ‘More than once.’ My eyes flick across to him and he looks sheepish. ‘You ran out last night before I could tell you that I knew her. I’d thought she must have been dead by now.’

I shake my head at this, remembering the vision of her I’d seen through Ghost’s shared connection with Nymeria. 

Beric breaks into my thoughts, clearly hung up on my comment from earlier. ‘You died? Physically died?’  
I jerk a nod, an echo of the pain, the terror, the empty void that beckoned me, shivers through me.  
‘The Lord of Light brought you back?’ he continues.  
I shrug. I still have no idea what happened. One moment there were the knives and I was on the ground, the next I was ripped back into life in a hot room lit by flickering flames. People were standing over me but all I could think - all I could do was _Get Out!_ And then Ghost was _there_ somehow, in my mind, and it was the easiest thing in the world to slip into his. And then we were gone. His only instinct was to flee - to escape the men with their steel teeth and their iron bars.  
I can feel anxiety pulsing through me as I remember that night.  
‘The Red Woman brought me back I think. But ... she didn’t bring all of me. I was different - I _am_ different - now.’

I sneak a glance at Gendry to see if he is repulsed by what I’m saying, but his face is open and free of worry. He gives me a small, encouraging smile when I meet his eyes. I feel that little glow of warmth again and look back to Beric, who is nodding slowly.

Beric exchanges a glance with Thoros, which is laden with meaning. ‘That’s the way of it,’ he says. ‘Every time the Lord of Light bestows his gift, there is more of him, and less of you, left inside. The human body can only hold so much divinity.’  
I frown. What’s inside me doesn’t feel light or divine. It feels dark. Primal. Wild. It feels like weirwoods and old gods and Direwolves howling into the empty night. But I don’t contradict him. The whole subject makes me feel confused ... and sad. I can still see little Olly’s face, see him bite his lip as he concentrates on where to aim his blade. 

With a sigh I shake those thoughts away. _That’s what you get for trying to be a leader. A hero_ , I tell myself. _Good riddance to the lot of them._ But still, I can’t help but think of inhumanly blue eyes and men with ice cold bodies who move when they shouldn’t be able to ... I shake the thoughts away. That’s not my responsibility. That’s not my problem, anymore. A teasing thought nags at me. _If not you, who? Who will stand against the long night?_ I ignore it and sit down beside Gendry at the table, pulling the porridge pot towards myself. The man with the topknot - Thoros - passes me a bowl and I scoop a big dollop. Regular food again. Hot food. It’s heaven. 

Gendry leans into me, murmuring quietly, ‘You were Lord Commander?’  
His voice sounds impressed and I frown. ‘Reluctantly. And I was killed for my troubles.’  
Beric is still watching me, and he seems to have read my thoughts, because he interrupts us, ‘What do you know of the enemy beyond the wall?’  
My gaze snaps back up to his and I feel myself go cold. ‘Nothing,’ I mutter. But I can see in his face that I’ve given myself away.  
‘I’ve heard that you know a lot more than nothing, Jon Snow,’ he says, his one eye pinning me. ‘I’ve heard that you’ve been out beyond the Wall more than once. I’ve heard that you fought men … and much worse than men. And lived to tell the tale. _What do you know?_ ’  
His voice is hard and insistent, but I’ve faced down meaner than him. And the thought of talking about it, of _re-living_ it brings a churning darkness to my stomach. ’Nothing I want to talk to you about,’ I growl and I drop my spoon back into the bowl with a clank, pushing myself back from the table. With a few quick steps I’m out the door, and I hear a mutter behind me, ‘Leave him, lad.’ No one follows.

Once I’m outside the house, I hesitate. Part of me wants to run again. I want to just run until I don’t have to think. Another part of me - a large part of me - wants to call to Ghost. If I were Ghost, none of this would matter to me. It would be the pointless problems of men, and I could focus on the hunt, the kill, the freedom of the night. But I wrestle that thought away. I can’t go back to that life. It wasn’t good for me … and it wasn’t good for Ghost. I know that now … but it would be so easy to give into it again …

With a snarl, I stride over to the barn. I can see a heavy steel bar leaning up against the side of it. It’s about the size Longclaw used to be. The weight is similar too, though it’s horribly unbalanced. I shrug my heavier furs off and heft the bar again, moving around the side of the barn, so it’s between me and the cottage. As I bring the steel up, I close my eyes, imagining it’s Longclaw I feel in my hand, imagining I’m whole again. Undamaged. Unchanged. And then I open my eyes and swing the bar. It whistles slightly as it cuts through the air. My muscles protest slightly at the stroke, but I reverse it and cut again.

After a few strokes, the movements become more familiar. I cut and parry and stab with my ‘sword’, losing myself in the feeling of a weapon in my hand. It drives everything else from my mind - doubts and fears and worries. All I can feel is the burn of my muscles and the weight of the steel in my hand. I’m rusty - unpracticed - but the movements feel good. They make me feel stronger. They anchor me somehow to myself. To hours upon hours of sparring with Robb and Theon and Jory and Ser Rodrick. I’m so lost in my movements that when a figure steps into the corner of my vision I strike instinctively. Too late I recognise Gendry’s face and I try to pull back. Then my bar reverberates through my hands with a clang as it strikes the metal of another weapon. I can feel my eyes widen in surprise as Gendry grins at me over the head of a war hammer. I step back a pace, opening my mouth to apologise, but he just crooks an eyebrow at me with a smirk and hefts that hammer again, swinging it straight for my head. I duck and then grin, striking out in return, the end of my bar almost grazing his chest as he twists.

He laughs and I can’t help the joy that bubbles up inside me. I grin savagely at him and step forward, striking in earnest now. He parries every stroke, swinging that massive hammer around like it’s nothing. I can feel the power in his body as he pushes my bar back again and again. I can tell by his movements that he hasn’t had a lot of training, but with a weapon like the hammer, strength makes up for a lot, and he has a good eye for judging his opponent’s moves. Several of my strikes he doesn’t have to parry at all - he’s already twisted or stepped himself out of the way. When he strikes against me in return he doesn’t hold back, and I feel something in my chest preen at the respect he shows me, and my skills. He’s not afraid of hurting me.

Now he’s looking at me, a smirk spread across his face, lighting up his blue eyes so they sparkle with mischief. ‘That all you got?’ he pants.  
‘That’s nothing,’ I say, and I allow a hint of the wolf into my smile. His eyes widen and I strike out. Now my blows come fast and hard. He brings the hammer up again and again but I’m pressing him, pushing him back. He’s left a dozen openings that I could have cut into by now but I’m enjoying this too much. His face is sharp with concentration as he parries but I can see the fierce joy lighting his eyes too and it spurs me on. With a hoarse cry I reach my other hand for the end of the bar, gripping it across my body and I shove it hard into his chest, trapping his arms and hammer against himself and pushing him back that last pace until his back hits the barn with a thud. My ‘blade’ rests just below his throat and we both look down to it, each one panting for breath.

Then I look back up into his eyes and my breath catches. I feel the skip in my heartbeat and suddenly I’m conscious that my body is pushed hard up against his, that I can feel the heat of him through the thin shirts we’re both wearing … that our faces are inches away from each other. His eyes are so blue, so deep, as they look into mine. And suddenly I want … I want to … my eyes drop to his neck and are drawn immediately by the deep, bruised imprint of a set of teeth. _My teeth_. Suddenly I’m ashamed of myself. Ashamed of my unnatural needs. Of what I’ve become. Even now, a part of me wants to bite again. To claim … To mate.

I push away from Gendry abruptly, disgust at myself clouding my face. He makes a noise that sounds frustrated, but I don’t turn back to him. I cast the bar aside with a heavy thud and stride away. I need to cool down. To get away from him. From my thoughts when I’m with him.

I stay just out of earshot of the farm, but I can see when they’ve packed up and are ready to go. I feel childish, trailing back into the yard, avoiding Gendry’s eyes, but I don’t know what else to do. Nothing feels natural like it used to. And … I never had all that much experience with this sort of thing … whatever _this_ is. Ygritte’s face flashes before me, laughing eyes, fire-bright hair, courage like a lion … yet look how that ended. I need to stay away from Gendry. I know it. I’m not good for him. When we get to wherever they’re going, I’ll make my own way. For now … for now I’ll stay. I have no food, no provisions … and no Ghost to hunt for me.

I avoid him as we walk that day, avoid all of them, not wanting to be drawn into conversation. I can see Beric and Thoros eyeing me on and off during the day, but every time one drops back to keep pace with me, I speed up, until we’re this strange train of movement and they both give up.

Eventually I end up walking beside Anguy. He gives me a curious glance, but doesn’t say anything, for which I’m grateful. He’s humming under his breath as he walks and I recognise the tune of _The bear and the maiden_. It makes me smile and think of father’s men and late nights in the barracks when they would let Robb and Theon and I sit up with them, having a taste of ale and listening in, wide-eyed, on their talk. I catch Gendry watching me then and my smile fades at the look on his face. He looks … angry? I don’t know what he has to be angry at. I look away, doing my best to ignore his presence as we push on.

————

That night, when we lay down for sleep, I feel indecision worm its way through me. When I was the wolf, it was obviously that I would bed down with him, guard his back during the night. When I was the man, it seemed right that I should sleep beside the man who was mine. Now ... now I am Jon, and ... things are not so clear. 

I hesitate, looking down at him spreading his bedroll, then make my decision. I pull my furs more warmly around myself and lay down beside the warmth of the still-burning fire. The opposite side to where Gendry lies. He looks across at me as I move and I can’t read the look on his face in the darkness. Hurt? Surely not. He must be glad to be rid of me, un-asked-for addition to his life that I was. I look away from his gaze and close my eyes. But sleep is long in coming. Despite the fact that I didn’t sleep the night before, I can’t relax. I’m tense. On edge. There is no comforting presence by my side. No slow, deep breathing to align my own to. 

Around the campsite Thoros is snoring loudly. Beric and Anguy are dark, soundless lumps and I can see Gendry over the dying glow of the fire. He tossed and turned too. But now he’s finally given in to sleep. I sigh and sit up, giving up the pretence. I reach for a piece of wood for the fire and as the flames lick at it, I hear a low, gravelly voice out of the darkness. 

My head jerks around to see the Hound, leaning against a tree at the edge of the campsite. He’s turned slightly so he’s looking back at me.  
‘Can’t sleep without your boy to cuddle up to?’  
His words are biting but there’s something in his tone that’s … understanding?  
‘What’s it to you?’ I mutter.  
‘Nothing to me,’ he snorts. ‘Just don’t feel like watching you two pining over each other for weeks.’  
‘I’m not pining,’ I shoot back, then realise I fell right into that one as he barks a short laugh.  
‘No, you’re right. I’ve spent all day looking at that one with hungry eyes, too.’ He jerks his head across at Gendry, still sleeping soundly, wrapped up in his bedroll.

‘We could all be dead tomorrow,’ the Hound says, looking out into the darkness. ‘Take your joy where you can find it, I say.’  
I stare at him, my gaze darting across to Gendry for a moment before returning to the shadowed figure standing at the edge of the camp. ’I’m not right,’ I say, wishing the words back into my mouth as soon as I’ve said them. But to my surprise, he doesn’t mock me, instead he turns around to face me fully, the firelight flickering over his scarred face.  
‘None of us are right, boy. It’s a fucked up world and we’ve all done things - or had things done to us - that have fucked us up even more. If you’re waiting to be perfect before you can be happy you’re going to die a miserable bastard.’  
I stare at him, his words sinking into me. He appraises me for a moment, then turns back out into the woods. ‘Now go the fuck to sleep. No sense in two of us staying awake.’  
I stare at him a moment longer, the things he said swirling around and around in my head. I fall asleep eventually to thoughts of Gendry’s gentle touch, his calming voice, his deep blue eyes.

When I dream that night, I dream of Ygritte. I dream of her telling me we should stay in the cave forever, forget the outside world. Then suddenly we’re at the Wall and there’s fighting and screaming and blood everywhere and she’s on the other side of the fight. And then she’s in my arms and she’s dead, her eyes staring lifelessly up. I can feel my heart breaking, but when I look down into her face, it’s Gendry I hold and his neck is ripped and bloody, his face a mask of pain. And I can taste the hot, coppery taste of blood and suddenly - horribly - I know it was me. It was me who killed him.

With a cry, I jerk awake, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. It’s still dark and the fire has burned down to nothing. I struggle into a sitting position, my chest heaving, the images from my dream fresh and horrible in my mind. There’s a scuffling sound near me, a footstep, and then a hand comes down onto my shoulder, the touch familiar and comforting. I know I should shake him off, but right now, I just _can’t_. I take a deep breath of air, trying to calm my heartbeat and steady my breathing.  
‘You okay?’ he murmurs into the darkness, lowering himself to sit beside me.  
‘Not really,’ I reply, quietly. Truthfully. Somehow the darkness, the dream, the Hound’s words. All of them combine to make me want to talk, to figure out a way out of this.  
‘What happened?’ he asks.  
‘Bad dream,’ I grunt. He waits, silently. Eventually I break the silence, the words coming despite me.

‘She -Ygritte - she was telling me not to go back into the outside world … to stay with her … to run away together … to leave the free folk, the crows, the Wall, the problems, all behind. But I couldn’t.’ I can hear the pain, the loss in my own voice. ‘I _couldn’t_. And so we left the cave, and I went on with the mission. Pretend to be one of the Free Folk, gather information, find out Mance’s plan … only she made me make a choice. She made me choose.’ I bring my hand down to rub lightly at one of the arrow scars I know is on my thigh.

Gendry is still quiet, his arm a heavy, comforting presence around my shoulders. I draw my knees up to my chest and continue. ‘There was a fight. A battle. And Ygritte - she was there. Of course she was there. She would never have missed a battle. I could see her across the practice yard - red-hair flaming out behind her. And then - then, she was dead.’ Gendry’s fingers tighten around my shoulder a moment but then he loosens his grip again.

I pause, thinking of the rest of the dream, of Gendry, dead in my arms. The taste of his blood in my mouth. And I realise I’m being selfish. I can’t draw comfort from him, take advantage of his caring nature. I need to distance myself, to protect him. To protect myself. I pull away slightly, sitting forward and his arm falls from my shoulders. 

‘Anyway,’ I say briskly, dispelling the quiet comfort he’s offered me without asking. ‘It was just a dream. Sorry to disturb your watch.’ And I lie back down, shrugging my furs up around my neck again as I close my eyes in the darkness. He sits beside me for a long moment and I wonder if he’s going to say something, to argue the point. But eventually he sighs and stands up and I hear him move back to his post.

———

When I wake again it’s light and Thoros is kindling a small fire. He gives me a smile when he sees I’m awake and I return it slowly. Across from me Gendry looks up from where he’s rolling up his bedroll and his gaze is unreadable. My smile fades away and he turns back to his task.

I move off a distance to relieve myself and then I spot a rocky outcropping. I have no idea where we are - I realise I haven’t asked anyone where they’re actually headed. So I make my way over to the rocks. A bit of height might give me a clue without me having to engage anyone in conversation. I’m at the base of the rocks when I hear his voice.

‘What’s your problem?’ he asks from behind me and I whirl around to face him.  
‘There’s no problem,’ I lie. Disbelief is written across his face, and a hint of anger again as well.  
‘I thought we were friends,’ his tone is hurt and I feel a stab of remorse. Friends. I have so few. None, now, probably.  
‘You don’t want to be friends with me,’ I say and he widens his eyes.  
‘I think I can make my own choices,’ he scowls. ‘You didn’t mind me being around _before_.’  
‘I wasn’t me, before,’ I shoot back, before I can think better of it.  
Hurt floods his face and he growls, ‘I think I liked the wolf better. At least he was honest with himself.’  
I open my mouth to retort, but he’s already gone, striding angrily away from me through the long grass. I feel a pang of loss and part of me wants to call him back. But I push it down.

-——

That day, as we walk, Gendry strikes up a conversation with Anguy. I’m hanging back a bit, but I can’t help but overhear the two of them. The conversation starts slow and I think back to the other times I was around the archer - when he seemed so quiet and withdrawn from the rest. But soon … soon they’re talking like two who have known each other for years. They’re talking about King’s Landing, the streets Gendry grew up in, the noble families from down South. All things I know nothing about. All things Gendry hasn’t bothered to tell me about. A distant part of me tells me that comment’s not fair - that all our interactions have been focussed on me and I’ve not taken the time to ask Gendry about himself. But right now, fair is not where my mind is sitting.

I glare ahead at the two of them, watching as their shoulders brush together as they walk, seemingly totally comfortable with each other. Anguy is young, probably of an age with me. With Gendry. And he’s tall and slim, with a wave of red hair over his freckled face. I think I could take him in a fight. I look at his longbow strapped across his shoulder … without that, what is he?

Gendry is asking him now, how he became so skilled with that bow. And he’s telling some horse shit story about how he won ten thousand golden dragons at the Hand’s Tourney.  
‘You were at the Hand’s Tourney?’ Gendry asks him, his voice holding a hint of awe. I don’t know what Gendry needs to be in awe of. Any man could have been at the Tourney. Anyway, it was my bloody father it was in honour of.  
‘Aye,’ Anguy says. ‘Saw that one,’ he nods at the Hound up ahead, ‘Go head to head with the Mountain, his brother. Was the most amazing fight I’ve ever witnessed.’  
Gendry just nods, still stuck on Anguy’s efforts it seemed. ‘And you really won the archery competition? You really won all that gold?’ Anguy laughs and nods and I want to push his face into a rock.  
‘Won it and lost it just as soon.’  
Gendry is looking at him in disbelief, and I feel the same. What fool of a man loses that sum of gold?  
‘For a short time I lived like a King, my friend. I had the finest food. The finest wine. And, oh, the women. Have you ever been to Chataya’s Brothel?’  
Gendry shakes his head, ‘You set foot inside?’ Now his tone is flat out worship and I want to growl at him. What’s so special about some brothel.  
‘I didn’t just set foot inside,’ Anguy laughs. ‘I had Jayde and Alayaya and Dancy. All of them more than once. And sometimes,’ he overrides Gendry’s strangled gasp. ‘All three together.’  
Gendry is stunned, reaching out to grab Anguy’s arm, looking up into his face as if to make sure he’s not joking with him. At the touch I feel my eyes narrow and I grit my teeth. I must have made some sound because Gendry’s eyes flick across to meet mine, and there’s a hint of challenge in his. I drop my gaze.

Anguy, oblivious, continues. ‘And not just them … but once … just once, I had Lord Renley’s lover in my bed.’ Now Gendry looks up into the other man’s face, moving forward a little and lowering his voice.  
‘But wasn’t that …?’  
‘Ser Loras … Lord of the Flowers? Yes. Yes it was.’ And then he _winks_. He winks at Gendry and I can’t help the snarl that rips its way out of my throat. Both men’s eyes jerk to mine and this time, I don’t drop my gaze. I know my eyes must look hot and feral, but inside me a wolf is snarling _mine mine mine_ and a part of me doesn’t want to rein it back in.

Anguy steps back with a nervous smile and then turns and continues down the road without a backwards look. Gendry is left, looking back at me, and that challenging look is in his eyes again. Then he brings up one hand and rubs it slowly, deliberately, over the bite mark in his neck. Involuntarily my eyes drop to watch his movement and I feel a flare of heat run through me as he touches the mark. He smirks at me. _Smirks_. And then he too turns and continues down the road.

I’m left staring after him, my mind wrestling with the same questions over and over.

——

Thoros finds us another abandoned cottage that night. It troubles me, to see so many houses empty. I wonder where the people in them have gone to. Whether they are still alive, somewhere. This one is full of stores. It makes me think the owners had not planned to be gone long. Still, their salted meats and the remaining vegetables in the larder make a welcome reprive from our scare stores. And then Thoros comes out of the small room crowing for joy. In his arms he cradles four skins of -  
‘Wine! Gods be good, it’s wine!’ His grin is ear to ear and he’s already pulling the cork from one skin with his teeth as he juggles the others. He pours us all a mug and keeps a skin for himself, drinking straight from the neck.

I take a hesitant sip and wince at the bitter taste, but all around me the others are draining their mugs and I take a deep breath and do the same. I feel the warmth of it swell through me immediately, relaxing a tension I didn’t realise I’d been holding. I look across to Gendry, on the other side of the large table and his cheeks are flushed, his eyes sparkling. He catches my eye and I look away quickly. Thoros has already re-filled my mug and I take another deep swig. It’s been so long since I’ve had a drink of wine and I can feel it going to my head.

Anguy prepares the meal and I watch him, drinking steadily from my mug. Gendry doesn’t approach him again though. He’s cleaning his hammer, polishing the heavy weapon as he listens to some battle story Thoros is telling. I tune them out, my thoughts turning inwards, trying to make sense of everything - of myself. When I look down again, my mug is full and I take another deep swallow. My thoughts seem to be moving around in circles now, and I can’t quite catch them. I think back to that morning, and the attempt to have a look around that I’d abandoned after my heated talk with Gendry.

‘Where are you all going, anyway?’ I ask out of nowhere, interrupting Thoros.  
‘You don’t know?’ It’s Beric who answers, but the others are all watching me, varying degrees of surprise on their faces. I’ve drunk too much wine to feel worried about their looks. And I’m curious.  
‘We’re going to the Wall, lad,’ he continues, watching me carefully.  
I feel a jolt of adrenaline shoot through my addled mind, forcing a bit of alertness into me.  
‘What are you going _there_ for?’ I ask, and my voice sounds cold.  
‘I think you know why we’re going there, Jon Snow,’ Beric replies, his eye boring into me.  
I don’t respond. I don’t want to respond.  
Beric continues, regardless, ‘There’s something out there, isn’t there, Lord Commander. Something worse than Wildlings.’  
‘Don’t call me that,’ I say automatically, but in my mind I see cold blue eyes and hatred and rage.  
‘What’s beyond the Wall, Jon? What is the real enemy to the Light?’

I can feel my breath quickening and my eyes widening. The wine I’ve drunk rushes through me, seeming to hold me to my seat, while at the same time loosening my tongue. ‘The Others,’ I breathe. ‘The Others are out there. And they can’t be stopped.’  
‘They can, lad,’ Beric says gently. ‘They can and we will.’  
I shake my head at him, eyes wide. ‘You don’t know. You haven’t _seen_. The dead - the dead walk with them.’ Around me I see the other men exchange glances with each other but I have no time for them and their thoughts. I have eyes only for Beric. I have to make him understand. To give up this folly. Then my heart clenches. Gendry. Gendry is travelling with this madman. Beyond the Wall. Towards the Others.  
‘I tried. I tried to stop him. To save everyone. And I was killed. That battle ends only in death.’ My voice has a pleading tone as I try to make him understand.  
‘I was killed too, lad,’ Beric says to me, ‘but that doesn’t mean the fight is done.’  
I can feel my heartbeat thundering through me and suddenly I feel hot and cold at the same time. I can’t do this. I need air. I push my way to my feet and as I leave the cabin, I hear footsteps behind me but I don’t stop until I’m at the railing to the yard, leaning against it and looking out into the still night.

He leans against the railing next to me, not quite touching me, and looks out into the darkness as well.  
‘I was captured,’ he says, his voice a low rumble. ‘Captured by Lannisters, along with your sister and a few lads headed for the Wall. While I was with them at Harrenhal, I saw - I heard - things I’ll never forget. Things that make me wake up in the night sometimes, sweating and scared for my life again.’  
I look across at him, at his strong profile in the dim light stretching out from the cottage windows. His voice is still quiet as he continues, gaze on the far light of the moon. ‘Your sister got us out. When it seemed like there were no options, there was no escape, Arya got us out. She never gave up.’ Now he turns to face me and his eyes are dark pools.  
‘I barely know you Jon, but somehow I feel like I do know you, deep down inside. You and Arya, you’re the same. You have the blood of the wolf in you. Fighter’s blood. I don’t think you’re the sort of person to give up either.’  
He falls quiet then and my heart clenches at his words. I’m not a coward. I’ve never been a coward, but to go back to that fight … 

His eyes are still on me and in them is respect and belief and trust and suddenly I want to live up to that belief. To be the man he sees me as. Then my thoughts take a different path - one I don’t want to resist, tonight. He’s right, I’m not the sort of person to give up - to back away from what is mine. And he - he could be mine. I know it. I’ve been pushing him away, but he’s there for the claiming … if I can let myself.

I take a small step forward, into his space, and I feel a tingle run through me as his breath hitches sightly. His eyes are still on mine and now his gaze is heated, heavy-lidded. I sway forward slightly, giving him the opportunity to step back, to change his mind, but he doesn’t move. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and I feel a jolt of heat run through me at the action. Another small movement forward and then I can feel the heat of his body radiating out at me, feel his breath on my mouth, faster than a moment ago. I look up into his eyes as our lips meet. It’s the barest brush of skin but it sends a tingle through my whole body. His eyes widen and I draw back a fraction, then brush our lips together again, firmer this time, the barest beginnings of a kiss. 

He lets out a breathy sound that sends fire through me and I can’t help myself. I step forward that last half pace, pushing our bodies against each other, feeling his hard warmth against the length of me. With a moan I deepen the kiss, pushing my mouth against his, tasting him. He groans against me, his hands coming up to grab at my hips, pulling me harder - grinding me - against him. I feel desire rush through me as I feel how hard he is. I bring my hands up to cup his face, the back of his neck, and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, opening his mouth and moaning into mine as our tongues entwine. The sound is heady, driving me higher. I can feel my kisses becoming harder, more demanding, but he meets me easily, pushing back and forth against me, vying for beautiful, delicious dominance. His hands are on my arse, pulling me hard against him as he rolls his hips, grinding into me. I rumble my approval. _My mate_.

At the thought something primal seems to let loose inside me. With a quick movement I turn us around and move forward a step until he’s backed hard against the fence, grunting as I push him into it. My hands on his neck are hard now, holding him in place as I bite into his mouth. I can feel his movements against me, pulling me harder into him, his hands under my shirt and on my bare skin and I break off from the kiss, biting my way down his jaw, rubbing my face against his neck, scenting him, eyes closed, lost in him. I can hear the steady rumble I’m letting out but I don’t care. I nose against his neck, up high where I left the last bite. I want to - need to - mark him again. _Mine_. I don’t ask, I bite and I feel his fingers clench into my muscles and his hips jerk against me as I do so. The sound that comes from his mouth as he throws back his head is strangled, a hoarse cry. I can’t tell if it’s pleasure or pain and in that moment I don’t care.

Then I taste blood, and it’s like a bucket of iced water has been thrown over me. I release him immediately, stepping back several paces, breaking free of his hold on me. It’s a moment before he responds, eyes dazed as he looks at me with confusion. I can’t see anything but the trickle of dark red blood tracing its way down his neck. And suddenly I am furious at him - furious at myself. How could I! How could I risk him? How could I forget? I’m nothing but a beast now. A beast pretending to be a man. And this man in front of me, this good, decent man, deserves so much more than that.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, in a low voice. ‘I’m so sorry.’ And then I’m gone. Gone into the night once again.

——

I don’t feel anywhere near as drunk as I did earlier and I move quietly through the landscape. After a moment I can hear him blundering after me, calling out, ‘Jon. Fucks sake. Jon! Answer me, will you.’  
I stay silent. I’m bad for him. Dangerous for him. It’s better this way. I can still taste a hint of the coppery taste of his blood and the savage feeling it sets off inside me scares me.  
‘Jon! I know you can hear me. Come out, damn it! We need to talk.’  
I stay where I am, crouched low in the grass behind a thicket of scrubby trees.  
‘Jon, please,’ his voice is softer now, hurt bleeding into it. ‘Please don’t do this again. Can we just talk about what happened?’  
I sigh, his voice tugging at me. I know him well enough by now to know that he’s bull-headed enough to stay out here all night, searching for me.  
‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ I call back to him.  
I hear the swift movement as he turns himself around and then the rustle as he moves through the grass towards me. The moon is half full, so he doesn’t walk head first into the clump of trees, instead he steps around it and drops to the ground opposite me.

For a long moment, he just looks at me, face unreadable in the silvery light of the moon.  
‘What’s going on?’ he asks finally.  
‘Nothing,’ I say, straight away. _And nothing will_ , I tell myself silently.  
‘Bullshit,’ Gendry says, looking me right in the eyes, his gaze challenging. ‘There’s something between us. You felt it the very first time you saw me. You said so. And I … well lately I’ve definitely felt it.’ I can see the blush darkening his cheeks even in the dim light, but he doesn’t look away.  
‘So, what’s going on?’ Then he pauses, as if a thought has just hit him. ‘Do you … not want to … want me? Is it just an instinct thing?’ He drops his eyes now, looking embarrassed, his shoulders hunching up.

I reach out a hand to him, unable to help myself, as I clasp his upper arm.  
‘No,’ I say, quickly. ‘No. I _want_. The wolf wants. That’s the problem though. I’m - I’m not right anymore. I’m dangerous. I could hurt you.’  
Gendry’s eyes shoot back up to meet mine and then to my amazement … he _laughs_. He throws his head back and laughs.  
I glare at him, withdrawing my hand, ‘This isn’t a joke.’  
Gendry stops himself, but he’s still grinning when he says, ‘You think you could hurt me if I didn’t want you to?’  
I look at him, uncertain what he means.  
His grin sharpens and he leans forward until he’s closer to me. I lean back, away from him, wary, but he just comes closer, shuffling forward until I’m leaning right back on my elbows to avoid him. His legs are bracketed either side of mine and he’s hovering over my body, his hands planted beside my head and his face inches from mine.

‘I’ve worked as a Smith since I can remember. You’re strong, sure, but your power comes when you have a weapon in your hand,’ his voice is low and compelling as he talks, looking down at me, his broad shoulders blocking out the night sky. ‘When it comes to brute strength …’ he half-shrugs, self depreciatingly. ‘If I had to stop you, I have no doubt I could.’  
I shake my head, not believing it could be so simple. My eyes drop to the fresh bite at his neck and the trickle of dried blood leading from it.  
‘Why didn’t you, then?’ I rasp. Gendry barks out another laugh.  
‘I didn’t want to. That wild part of you?’ his voice is husky and his eyes are dark and deep. ‘I like it … a lot.’  
The air leaves my lungs in a rush and I feel desire spear through me. _He can’t_. But then, keeping his eyes on me, Gendry moves closer again until I can feel his heat all along my body. He bends his head to ghost a kiss over my lips and then nuzzles his way along my jaw. When he reaches my neck I can’t help myself, I tilt my head back, baring myself for him.

He noses his way down my neck, inhaling against my skin and I feel a thrill go through me. Then I feel a jolt of heat as he kisses my neck gently, open-mouthed. A gasp leaves my lips as he grazes his teeth across my skin, following them with another kiss. Every nerve in my body feels like it’s on fire. I tense, wondering if he will do what I think he wants to - what I hope he will.

And then his teeth close on my skin as he claims me, biting hard into me. I arch up against him, crying out harshly, pulling him down against me, fingers clawing into him. As his teeth dig into me, I feel a wolf inside me raise his head, stirring to life. He _wants_. And I want. Our hungers feed on each other and I grind up against Gendry as he releases me, licking against my neck. I growl at the loss and pull his head sharply up to mine, smashing our mouths together. When I bite into his mouth it’s savage and hard and he moans into it, putting his whole weight on me so he can fist his hands through my hair. I hook a leg around his and flip us so I’m lying on top of him and grinding down into his hard, hot length. He moans again and I begin pulling at his clothes, not caring if anything rips. I need to taste his skin on my tongue. Feel it against mine.

I bite my way down his neck and chest as he shrugs his way out of his shirt, laying back onto his red cloak and pulling me back to him. His hands are hot and fast on my skin, pulling my shirt open and off me. I can’t help the growl of satisfaction that rips through me as my bare chest rubs against his skin. I make my way down to his pants, kissing and licking and biting and scratching until he’s writhing underneath me, then I strip his pants roughly off him. His cock, when it comes free is hard and throbbing and oh so wet with pre come. I don’t even stop to think, I push his legs apart and lick a hot wet strip from his arse, over his balls to the end of his cock, swallowing him down.

He lets out a groaning cry, ‘Ah fuck, Jon. Fuck. That.’  
I grin savagely and do it again, and again. Tasting him. Scenting him, making him mine. _My mate_. I rub my face against his thigh, nuzzling in at him and he’s panting and crying out underneath me. ‘Please. Need you. Jon - Ah.’

I move back onto my knees and free myself quickly, pulling my cock out of my pants, and smacking him hard on the side of the hip. He jolts and looks up at me.  
‘Knees,’ I growl, barely able to think in words anymore.  
In a second he’s on his knees, head down on his arms as he spreads his arse to face me. My mind goes blank. All I can think - all I am - is need. I line myself up and push inside him in one swift move. We both shout out at the sensation, hoarse cries echoing in the still night. Then he pushes back against me and I lose it. I pull out and thrust back into him. Hard and fast. I can hear him crying out beneath me, harsh, moaning gasps. My fingers claw hard into his hips as I snap back into him, our skin smacking together again and again.

He feels so good. So hot and tight and the sounds he’s making are driving me higher. I need to touch him. To taste him. I reach forward and grab his shoulders, pulling him up hard against my chest as I thrust into him and he grinds down against me. I nuzzle at his back, his shoulder, his neck. Then I bite again. I can’t help it. I taste blood again, but his cry is high and needy and he makes no move to stop me. He just pushes back harder against me, urging me on. My teeth mark him again and again and my fingers are raking scratches over his chest and rock hard stomach. As I pull him hard against my body, my other hand grazes over the tip of his cock and he jolts like he’s been electrified.

I fuck up harder into him and wrap one fist around him, moving it in time. ‘Fuck. Jon. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Oh, don’t stop. Fuck.’ His voice is a steady stream and his arms are reaching backwards, fists tangled in my hair, pulling me harder against him. ‘I’m so close. Fuck you feel so good. Fuck.’

I growl against him, lost in the feel, the smell, the taste, the sound of him. My whole world is focused on him. I grip him harder and snap up into him as I tilt my head to growl in his ear, low and hot and commanding. ‘Now.’  
With a shuddering cry, he finds his release and I feel his hot come streak over my fist. He clenches around me and I push him back down to his hands, bringing my fist to my mouth. I lick the taste of him off my hand as I chase my release. He looks so good, tastes so good, feels so good spread out for me.

I dig my fingers back into his hips, pulling him back hard against me as I thrust in and out, faster and harder. He’s moaning still, breathless pants of sound, and for just a second I let myself think that this is how it is now. I growl the word.  
‘Mine.’  
‘Yours,’ he pants back at me. ‘Yours, always.’  
The words - the idea - send me over the edge. With a cry that’s almost a howl, my release rips through me, white hot. I bend over Gendry’s back as I spend deep inside him, feeling myself filling him up. I’m panting hard and we’re both sticky with sweat. Right at that moment I want nothing more than to stay like that - to stay inside him. He collapses forward onto his cloak and I lie there on top of him, both gasping for breath.  
I kiss him gently over one of the fierce red bites.  
‘Yours,’ I say, softly now.  
‘Mine,’ he agrees, and I hear the satisfaction in his voice.

We sleep outside that night, twined around each other with a confusion of furs thrown over us. I can’t remember the last time I slept so well. 

——-

The first rays of dawn light wake me and I come back to myself slowly, remembering the night before. I can feel him, warm and steady against my back, his arm wrapped loosely around my waist. 

I shift in his embrace so I’m facing him, quietly so I don’t wake him. He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping, his face relaxed and almost happy. My eyes trace his features, then down his neck and chest where I can see angry bites and scratches all over his skin. My mind fights between satisfaction that I’ve marked him so clearly and shame for hurting him.  
His voice startles me, ‘Morning,’ he smiles. My eyes come up to meet his and they’re a bright, clear blue. His smile is wide and happy. 

‘Morning,’ I say back, and my eyes drop to his chest again. Gendry shifts so he has one arm pillowed under his head and looks at me, lying on his side.  
‘Last night ...’ he begins, hesitantly.  
‘I’m sorry if I hurt you,’ I say, eyes still on the marks.  
He sighs. ‘Jon. Jon, look at me.’ I pull my eyes back up to his again. ‘Last night was amazing. I loved every part of it.’ His cheeks darken as he blushes but he doesn’t drop his eyes. ‘I told you. I’m yours. I’m all in. This is what I want. You. All of you. Okay?’  
I stare at him in the light of day, lying naked under the furs with him, my eyes searching his for any hint that he has reservations. I see nothing except trust and tentative happiness shining through. 

Finally I nod, ‘okay,’ I whisper back. He grins and then leans forward capturing my mouth in a slow, sweet kiss. He tastes just as good as last night and I lay back, pulling him forward so he’s half on me as we kiss. It’s slow and gentle and nothing like the night before but I can’t get enough of it. His hands are cupping my face and I run mine down his back, soothing over the angry marks. He shifts against me, deepening the kiss and I feel his length, hard and hot against my leg. 

I breathe a sigh into his mouth and pull him towards me further, urging him to lay on top of me. I want to feel him all along my body, feel his naked skin, hot and smooth against mine. He moves slowly against me, arms resting either side of my shoulders and I slide my hands down to cup his arse, kneading and stroking softly. He moans slightly into my mouth and grinds down against me. I spread my legs for him and his hot, hard heat lines up against my own so perfectly. 

We kiss and kiss, hands moving over each other, bodies rocking against each other. There’s no urgency today. I realise Gendry was right. He’s mine and I’m his. And that’s how it is now, how it will always be. With that thought I pull him closer to me. I break our kiss for a moment to look up into his eyes. His pupils are blown wide with desire and he has a heavy, blissed out look.  
‘Want you,’ I say, trusting he will know what I mean. His eyes widen and he pulls back a bit.  
‘Really?’ 

I nod, suddenly I want him in me as much as I needed to be in him last night. I want him to fill me with his seed. His scent. Mark me as his mate in turn. 

Gendry lets out a groan of need and his mouth crashes into mine again, kissing me hard and desperately. Then he draws back, panting and slicks two fingers, reaching down between us. I gasp at the sensation but then he twists his fingers just so and I’m moaning his name, clutching at his shoulders, pulling his mouth back to mine in a hot, wet kiss.

When he enters me it’s slow and gentle and he almost sobs, burying his face in my neck. Both of us lie still, adjusting to the feeling, before he pulls out slowly, then slides back into me. I groan at the sensation. He feels so good. He kisses my neck, wet and open mouthed, then moves again, picking up a faltering rhythm that has both of us gasping and moaning. I pull him against me, wanting him deeper, faster, harder, but he keeps up his slow strokes, rolling against me, building me up on a cresting wave. 

I can feel him inside me, feel a wave of want when he moves in that certain way. It’s so good. All my focus is on him. His hands, his body, his mouth, his scent, his sounds. All I can feel is him moving inside me as he brings me closer and closer to the edge. I’m mumbling now, panting incoherent thoughts about gods know what. But I can’t stop myself. Everything is driving towards a single point. I feel strung out as he pulls me higher and higher. 

Then his hand moves between us and he grips my aching, leaking cock, rubbing up and down it in time with his movements in me.  
‘Ah Gen, Gods Gen.’ I throw my head to the side, oblivious to everything but the way he makes me feel. He rolls his hips quicker, pushes deeper and nuzzles again at my neck, grazing his teeth over my skin. I shudder and arch up into him. His stubbled skinslides against me again and then I feel his teeth close over my skin, biting hard into my neck. I cry out at the feeling. At the sensations of pleasure and pain and of being taken and taking all turning into one. I cry out and he grips me tightly as he thrusts into me and then I’m coming. I pull him to me, fingers digging hard into his shoulders as I clench around him, riding out my orgasm as I spill hotly between us. 

He calls out my name hoarsely and I feel him shudder against me as he comes in turn, collapsing down on me and burying his face in my neck as he does. 

We lie there for a long time, him still buried deep within me, neither of us wanting to let go of the moment. 

—— 

When we return to the cottage, the sun is rising in the sky. The others are all awake and they look up as we enter the room. Gendry’s face darkens in a blush as he moves over to the table, looking for something to break his fast.  
The Hound barks out a laugh, ‘Wild animals attack you both last night, did they?’  
I jerk my head around to him, a low growl sounding in my chest despite myself. But when I see him, I realise he’s teasing for the fun of it, not because he wants to start something. I look across at Gen and can’t help but smile myself … his neck is bruised and bitten all over … he does look like he came off worse against some wild animal.

Gendry ignores the Hound’s comment but I see a small smile on his face too, and he doesn’t make any move to cover his neck.

——- 

That day, as we walk, Beric drops back to talk to me and I don’t run. Gendry, beside me, slips his hand into mine and I hear the man out. He tells me about the vision, of an army marching beyond the wall, of the true enemy of darkness coming.  
In turn I ... I tell him what I know. What I have seen. What I have done. He needs to know. I understand that now. Everyone must make their own choices and if his choice is to face the Night King and his army, then that is his choice to make.  
As I think this I can’t help gripping tighter to Gen’s hand in mine. He's with Beric. His choice is to go North as well. 

The days pass like that. As we travel North, ever North, Beric grills me about the terrain beyond the Wall, the defenses of the Wall. He asks me about the Watch and its strength. He makes me tell him again and again about the dragonglass and where we found it. As he talks and plans, Gendry is a quiet, calm presence at my side. He allows me to stay still, to think back, to avoid the urge to run again.  
As Beric talks and plans and draws all the men around him tighter and tighter into his influence, I can't help but challenge him. He doesn't know the snows like I do. He doesn't know how the Free Folk think and why they fight. And he doesn't really understand the Watch, not like I do ...  
I see him watching me with his calculating gaze when he thinks I'm not paying attention. Not for nothing is he the leader of these men. But I see much more than he realizes. I know he has plans for me ... or he thinks his Lord does, anyway. 

When we finally reach Mole's Town, the place spears in my memory. I look around, remembering the time I ran, remembering the time my brothers brought me back ... the time I accepted finally and absolutely that I was a man of the Night's Watch and I would be until the day I died. I bring a hand up to rub gently at my chest, at the largest scar that sits right over my heart and pulls tight with pain. Gendry sees the movement and shoots me a look of concern. I give him a small smile and drop my hand. There's still so much I need to tell him.

We take rooms for the night at the brothel and every one of the men looks immediately for the most attractive woman in the room. I glance across at Gen and he rolls his eyes at me, then nods to a table in the corner, near the fire. He huddles up beside it, sighing with satisfaction at its warmth and I can't help but smile. He'll always be a Southerner, I think, even if he lives the rest of his life in the North. The thought brings me up short. Where will he - will we - live? Will he even live through what is coming? I shudder at the grim thought and move closer to the fire myself. We both eat quickly, making short work of the hot, meaty, stew, and then head up the stairs to our room. None of the others notice us go.

The room's not as warm as the common room downstairs and we undress quickly, sliding beneath the pile of furs. I lie back and Gen pillows his head on my chest, wrapping an arm around my waist. He traces slowly over the ridge of one of my scars and neither of us speaks for a while. It's him who eventually breaks the silence.  
'Is it strange, being back?'  
I shrug under his weight, 'I didn't come here much.' Then I pause and think about my earlier memories. 'But yes, it is strange. I - I deserted the Watch … my brother, Robb needed me and I ran. My brothers - the brothers I had sworn to above and beyond my flesh and blood - they came for me. They reminded me of my vows. Of the importance of the Watch … of the crucial role we - they - have.'

I pause again, remembering the words I swore, as I knelt in the snow in front of the heartwood. I murmur them aloud, ' _I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the shield that guards the realms of men._ ' For the first time in a long time I really think about those words, about the Watch and the real reason it exists. I close my eyes and try to push those thoughts away. But Gendry's voice, gentle and soft, asks me the question I've been trying to avoid for days.  
'Will you come with us, to the Wall?'  
He doesn't look up at me, and his hand doesn't stop in its slow movement on my side.

I shift uncomfortably under him. 'I … don’t know.' Now his hand stills for a moment before he continues the soothing strokes. 'It's not because I'm a coward … it's … part of it is petty I guess. Why should I fight again with men who murdered me - who conspired to stab me to death and leave me bleeding in the snow?'  
I take a deep breath and bring my hand up, threading it through Gendry's short hair, pushing gently until he tilts his head to look up at me, blue eyes shadowed in the dim light of the room.  
'But it's more than that. The Red Woman … when she brought me back … she said I had a role to play. That I was the Prince that was Promised. That I - I was the one to face the Night King … to fight the final battle.' Gendry doesn't say anything, his eyes are calm as he waits quietly.  
'But how can I be?' I blurt out. 'I'm Jon Snow. I'm a bastard who was lucky enough to have a father with honour who brought me home from the war. I'm nobody! If I fight this fight - the real 'Prince', whoever that is, will miss the chance to fight and everything could be lost.'

I'm breathing hard when I finish and Gendry props himself on one elbow to look at me, cupping my cheek with his hand.  
'Jon,' he starts, voice as serious as I've ever heard it. 'No one can make your choices for you. But you need to know this. You need to understand this. You're a good man. A great one I think. I've watched you and listened to you over the past month as you talked first with me and then with Beric and the others.' His gaze is earnest and I want to believe what he's saying to me. He rubs a thumb over my cheek.  
'You understand men - you understand battle tactics and you don't underestimate the enemy. You're a fighter and you have courage and heart. You lived for months as a wolf … but while you might see that as a failure, I just see someone who refused to give up - who did whatever he could to survive. The world needs someone like that if the things beyond the Wall break free. You might not want to be some prophesied leader … but you can just be Jon Snow, doing his best. That's all any of us can really do, isn't it?' His smile is a little sad as he looks at me and I feel his words washing through me, rubbing up against my thoughts and my fears of the last few months.

I give a small nod and he leans in, touching his lips against mine ever so gently. I cup his face and draw him closer to me, meeting the kiss, deepening it, but keeping it sweet and slow. When we make love that night, it's gently and quiet and so, so good and I realise that this man … this man is the best of me.

\------

We leave early the next morning and the Wall gets bigger and bigger as the day wears on, rising in our vision until it surpasses the sky. I shiver at the sight of it. That massive, looming structure of ice stirs such a deep, gut reaction in me. It’s a mixture of duty and honour and fear and pride. I dedicated my life to this Wall. I died for it. Gendry comes up beside me, not saying anything, just looking at it, seemingly as awed as I was the first time I came across it. I slip my hand into his and he squeezes it, shooting me a grin that somehow releases the tension I didn’t realise I’d been holding. 

We approach the large, wooden gates to Castle Black. Beric bangs the butt of his sword against them to get some attention. A flap slides open and a face I don’t recognise peers out. It’s a young man. He looks fresh into his vows. I wonder if I ever looked that unsure of myself. He calls a challenge and Beric just tells him to get whoever is in charge.

Soon, the gates swing open and we can see right into the training yard, where a number of men, dressed all in black stand, looking out at us. Three men walk out.

‘Who are you and what’s your business in Castle Black?’ Thorne asks, looking around our small group with disdain. Something inside me flares to life at his sneering dismissal. I can’t do it. I can’t ignore what I know and let others fight the battle for me. The world cannot be allowed to fall because of small men like him and their small fears.

I push my way through the others, until I’m facing Thorne. I see his eyes widen in disbelief as he recognises me. When I speak, I make sure my voice rings out, so that every man of the Night’s Watch around us can hear it.

‘I’m Lord Commander Jon Snow, and I’ve come back to start the war.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. I've really enjoyed putting this one together and would love to know what you thought of it. Shoot me a comment :)


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